Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Happy Endings
by RobzBeanie
Summary: All Edward wanted was his freedom and a safe place to hide… and maybe a warm female body in his bed. What he got was so much more. EPOV of "Reason For Living." Rated C for Cheekyward. AH, Tattward
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: **Welcome, everyone! I've decided to go ahead and write the entire story Reason For Living from Edward's point of view. I'm not done yet, but I'm through 16 chapters, which should give me enough of a lead to post regularly.

This chapter was already included as the last RFL outtake.

Thanks again to moosals for pre-reading. Stephenie Meyer owns all characters.

Also special thanks to edwardisaputz for pre-reading from the male perspective!

* * *

_Thursday, September 13, 2012_

Fuck me.

With every fucking tree we pass, I get closer to the 6-by-8-foot cell that will become my home for the next 25 years. Sure, my fucking lawyer says he's going to push for a new trial, but that's no guarantee that this fucking nightmare will be over anytime soon.

Spending the last four weeks at the Washington Corrections Center was bad enough. I was put through medical examinations, psychological testing, you name it, like a fucking lab rat. Their assessments came out Minimum security since I'm not a fucking psycho, but they've assigned me to Medium security anyway, thanks to my second-degree murder conviction.

I can't believe the nerve of that bitch. I can't believe a fucking reverend's daughter placed her hand on the Bible, swearing to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth — and then lied through her teeth about the fact that we knew each other. Intimately.

I know we meant nothing to each other, but Jesus Christ — she got off every time! What the hell kind of problem did she have with me?

And of course, the jury believed _her_ over me. Big fucking surprise there.

I'm staring out at the trees when suddenly someone on the bus curses loudly. My head bumps the window as the bus swerves across the other lane and off into the gravel on the left side of the road. The driver must overcorrect, because suddenly we're careening to the right and off the road again. I'm jerked back and forth in my seat as the front of the bus slams into a huge tree.

"All right, everyone stay calm," the guard sitting behind the driver says, standing up and pointing his gun at the seven convicts on the bus. The driver hops out, walking around to the front of the bus, but then I lose sight of him. He comes back a minute or so later.

"I smell fuel; I think we need to get them off the bus. I'll radio for help," the driver says.

The guard in the back of the bus starts walking up the aisle, stopping beside each of the seven prisoners to unlock the side of our cuffs that's shackled around the metal armrest of the seat and hook it over our other hand instead. One by one, he passes us off to the guard from up front.

When he finally reaches me, I stare down at the gun sticking out of the holster on his hip as he fiddles with my cuffs. The other six guys are all off the bus already, being watched by just the one lone guard with a gun.

Without a second's thought as to whether or not this is a good idea, I grab for the gun with my right hand, hitting him as hard as I can in the nose with my left elbow. I turn and run down the steps, past the gawking men and off into the woods.

"Hey!" the guard outside screams. I hear a couple of gunshots and then a searing pain shoots through my left side.

Fuck! I've been shot!

I'm afraid if I stop, he'll continue shooting, so instead I keep running through the trees, as fast as I can. Fuck, I've never been a runner, and right now I wish I was in better shape.

I run for several minutes, not even pausing to look behind me. I jump over a fallen tree, then absolutely have to stop and rest for a moment, bending over with my hands on my thighs as I breathe in and out deeply.

And then I smell it — smoke, like there's a fireplace going somewhere nearby.

I thought we were in the middle of fucking nowhere, but maybe there's a house out here? I breathe in again as deeply as I can, trying to figure out where the smoke is coming from, then take off again in that direction.

A couple of minutes later, I see it, a small house up ahead through the trees. It's not dark outside yet, but the lights are already on inside and smoke is billowing out of the chimney.

I increase my speed, running toward what I hope is my salvation. When I reach it, I immediately start pounding on the door, hoping I'm not greeted by someone with a shotgun. As I stand there catching my breath, I can hear the sound of voices coming closer.

Fuck! I pound on the door again; I've got to get inside before they make it over here. The lights are on, so I know someone is home.

"Just a second," a female voice calls from inside. Thank God — there shouldn't be any kind of confrontation if there's only a woman here.

I wait impatiently, trying to ignore the intense pain in my side. When the door flies open, I rush into the house. I barely even notice the woman standing next to the still-open door.

"Close the fucking door," I yell. She closes the door and turns around, getting into some sort of staring contest with me. She's small, maybe average height for a female, but too thin — or at least her clothes look too big for her. With her long brown hair and no make-up, she looks a hell of a lot like Angela did on the witness stand. My stomach twists as I wonder if this is God punishing me.

I snap myself out of it, realizing either someone from the prison or the local police has got to be closing in on me. With the lights on inside the house, they'll easily be able to spot me through the windows. I move to close the window blinds, hearing her finally make some kind of noise.

"Please don't hurt me," the woman says timidly, barely audible.

"I'm not here to hurt you," I reply, trying to reassure her. "I need you to help me get these handcuffs off and find me some less conspicuous clothes, then I'll be out of your hair." I need to get the fuck out of town — fast.

The woman just stares at me like I spoke in fucking Chinese or something. "I promise," I add.

"Do you have the key for the handcuffs?" she finally asks.

"If I did, I wouldn't need your help," I reply, rolling my eyes. Is she for real?

"Um, am I supposed to know how to remove them without a key?"

"No," I snort, looking her up and down, "I guess not. You look like a good girl — not the type who likes to get kinky in the bedroom with a pair of handcuffs." Shame.

Her face turns bright red as she slowly starts walking toward the kitchen, keeping one eye on me at all times. It's really starting to piss me off the way she acts like I'm some psycho killer. Not that I really blame her, but still — it's pissing me off.

"Um, my dad might have like a hacksaw or wire cutters or something, from when he used to come down here fishing," she says.

"Stop looking at me like that."

She stops abruptly. "Like—like what?" she stutters.

"Like I'm gonna hurt you. I've never hurt a woman. As long as you don't try anything, I won't lay a finger on you."

"O—ok," she replies, but she doesn't sound convinced. I follow her to the kitchen, staring at her ass as she bends over, digging around in one of the cabinets. Hey, she's the first woman I've seen in the last month who's even _close_ to attractive.

"You escaped from Stafford Creek?" the woman asks while she searches through the box. I finally drag my eyes away from her ass so I can close the blinds on the kitchen window.

"Not quite," I tell her, distracted by my task.

"I'm not guilty," I add, hoping that'll convince her not to be afraid of me. "I was tried and convicted for something I didn't do."

"Wouldn't anyone say that?"

"Probably, but I'm not lying to you."

"Ok," she replies, holding up a small hacksaw.

"That?" I scoff. "You might be able to cut through the chain with that, but you'll never be able to cut through the cuffs."

"It's a start, isn't it? At least your hands will be separated."

"Fine. Whatever," I reply as I take a seat on one of the kitchen chairs. Something tickles my leg and I look down, noticing a furry orange cat sniffing at my leg and shoe.

Just as she places her hand on the back of another chair to pull it out, there's a knock at the front door. Both of us freeze in place, just staring at one another.

"Is anyone home?" a muffled voice calls through the door. "It's the police."

"Fuck," I whisper, staring up at her. This is it — I can't really stop her from turning me in. I'm not a killer; I won't shoot her if she tries anything. Even if I just try to keep her here in the kitchen, she can always scream.

She stares back at me and I notice for the first time how dull her deep brown eyes are. She looks sad, almost haunted.

Suddenly she's urging me to stand up. "Go hide in the bathroom," she whispers, pointing out the room. "I'll get rid of them."

She'll what?! She wants to _help_ me?

I walk toward the bathroom, but then stop, looking back at her. "How do I know you're not gonna turn me in?" Just because she looks innocent doesn't mean I can trust her — I learned _that_ the hard way.

"You don't, I guess," she shrugs. "But I won't. I—I believe you."

I'm still afraid it might be a trick, but what choice do I have? I step into the bathroom, hiding behind the door. I think about closing it, but I want to hear what's going on.

"Good evening, officers," I hear her say. "I'm sorry it took me so long to get to the door; I was in the bathroom. Is there something I can help you with?"

"Ma'am, a bus carrying new inmates to Stafford Creek ran off the road about a mile from here. One of the men escaped. Have you seen or heard anything unusual this afternoon?"

"No, I—I haven't," she lies. "Should I be concerned?"

"Yes, Ma'am," the officer replies. "This man should be considered armed and dangerous. Lock your doors and windows, and if you see anything suspicious, call 9-1-1 immediately." Armed and dangerous — I want to deck the guy for telling her that. What if she changes her mind about my innocence and turns on me?

"Of—of course. Thank you for letting me know."

"Have a good evening, Ma'am."

"I hope you catch him," she calls. I wait in the bathroom until I'm satisfied the cop is gone, then step back out into the living room to see her standing in front of the closed door, her head down.

She turns around, jumping slightly when she sees me standing there. She stares up at me, a strange look on her face, and I wonder for the first time what she's thinking.

"I hope you catch him," I parrot.

She shrugs. "It sounded like something I should say?"

I grimace, shaking my head at her poor acting ability, then hold up my hands — we've still got unfinished business. "The handcuffs?"

"Right, come on," she replies, motioning me back toward the kitchen. I sit heavily on the chair, still exhausted from my apparently mile-long run, and hold my hands out to her.

"Um, could you maybe not be pointing the gun at me as I'm trying to do this?" Is she fucking kidding? "I won't pick it up and use it against you," she continues. "If I wanted to do something like that, I would've told the cop where you were."

"Fine," I sigh, setting the gun on the table carefully. "Do you know how to handle that if you did pick it up?" I ask, nodding toward the gun.

"Um, yeah, I do. My dad is Chief of Police up in Forks." Fuck! Her dad's not only a cop but the fucking Chief of Police? Double fuck! I'm sure he'd be none too happy about his daughter lying to the police for me.

I hold out my hands again — I want these fucking things off. She begins sliding the hacksaw back and forth over the chain separating the two cuffs. She doesn't look strong enough to cut through it, but I don't really have another option here.

I have more of a chance to study the woman while she works on the chain. Despite her dull eyes, she's not unattractive — she might even be pretty if she didn't look so sad. Hell, even if she wasn't attractive, she's still a female with a decent enough body. After a month in lock-up, I could really go for a fuck if she's up for it.

"Fucking finally," I sigh when miraculously, the chain snaps. I stretch my arms out in front of me, trying to get the feeling back in them. "We're not done yet though."

"Oh my God," she gasps suddenly, looking down at me, "Have you been shot?"

"Yeah, a fucking guard got me as I was running off. It's not bad." To be honest, I'd almost forgotten I'd been shot, more worried about my ass getting caught and carted off to prison.

"Not bad," she repeats. "It's a gunshot wound. Let me look at it."

"Are you a doctor?"

"Not exactly," she replies.

"A nurse?"

She shakes her head. "I'm a veterinarian."

This timid little thing is a veterinarian? I just can't picture her trying to examine some huge dog — it'd probably knock her over.

"So you know how to treat a gunshot wound?" I snort.

"Well, not really," she admits. "I did once. A kid was playing with his dad's gun and accidentally shot the family dog. Just let me see it," she huffs.

"I think you just want to see me half-naked," I reply with a wink, wishing I could see _her_ naked.

I start unbuttoning my orange jumpsuit, noticing the way her eyes widen and her face turns pink as I shrug it off my shoulders. She looks like she's never seen a fucking tattoo before. Or a half-naked man — but she looks too old to be a virgin.

When I am naked to the waist, she begins prodding at my side before running off to the bathroom. She comes back with a wet washcloth and wipes the blood away.

"Turn for me," she directs quietly, before she examines the entrance wound in my back. Her poking around hurts like hell, but I like the feel of her soft hands on my skin.

"Well, the good news," she begins, "Is that you don't have a piece of metal inside you. The bullet went right though."

"So I'm fine," I reply with a shrug. Thank God — I really wasn't looking forward to having her try to take out the bullet.

"Not so fast," she cautions, "Who knows what the bullet may have hit. You could have internal bleeding, or it could've damaged some of your internal organs."

"If it hit anything important, I wouldn't have been able to run a mile over here. Just put a bandage on it and I'll be fine."

She sighs, then heads to the bathroom again, returning with a first aid kit. I look down when something tickles my leg, noticing her cat has taken up residence by my foot again. I lean down and wink at him.

She pulls a large band-aid from her first aid kit, covering the hole in my back, then tapes a bandage over the wound in my stomach.

"You can put your clothes back on now," she says when she's finished.

"I'm good like this," I argue. "It's warm in here with that fire burning in the fireplace." Seriously, it's the middle of fucking September — why does she need the fireplace already? Not that I'm not grateful, since it led me right to her.

"Do you have a cigarette?" I ask, totally jonesing for a smoke. I've only been able to bum a couple in the last month.

"What? No, I don't smoke."

"Of course you don't," I mumble. "I shouldn't be surprised."

"What's that supposed to mean?" she asks, her eyes narrowed.

"Nothing, Good Girl." Just my luck to end up with a cop's daughter Pollyanna.

"Look," she begins, "I really have no idea how to open handcuffs without a key. I have internet on my computer. Why don't you Google it or something while I make dinner?"

"Yeah, all right," I agree, standing and picking up the gun. I walk over to her desk in the living room, sitting down on her leather office chair and setting the gun on the desk. I pull out the keyboard tray, bring up the internet and Google "how to remove handcuffs without a key."

I click on a couple of the sites that come up in the search, trying to absorb all of the information. It looks like we need bobby pins — thank God my savior is a woman with long hair. She's got to have bobby pins around here somewhere.

I'm startled when her cat jumps up on my lap then onto the desk. He —she? — stands right in front of the monitor, just looking at me. "You're a better door than you are a window, ya know?" I push on the cat's back and finally he curls up into a ball, keeping his eyes on me. I grab the gun, setting it on my lap, so he doesn't accidentally shoot me with it.

"Find anything?" she asks, stepping out of the kitchen.

"Yeah, we need bobby pins," I tell her. "That's what all the articles say. There are even demonstration videos on YouTube."

She scrunches her nose. "Um, I don't think I have any bobby pins. I usually just pull my hair back in a ponytail. I'll go check in the bathroom though."

While she's looking, I reach up and pet the guard kitty gently, trying to earn his trust. "Hey," I whisper to him, "Tell your mama I'm cool, yeah? Maybe I can get laid tonight. We men need to stick together." Of course, if the cat's female, she'll probably tell her owner to stay the hell away from me.

"Sorry, I definitely don't have any," she reports when she comes back a minute or so later. "I can get some tomorrow though."

"Tomorrow?" I really need to get the fuck out of town ASAP. Maybe after a good fuck though — or at least a blowjob.

"Yeah, it's my shopping day. I'll pick some up at Walmart, along with some clothes for you like you wanted, then you can be on your way."

"Why can't you just go get them now?" I ask with a frown. "Isn't Walmart usually open 24 hours?"

"Walmart is three miles away."

"So what?"

"I don't drive," she replies. "A… a friend, I guess, will drive me to the store tomorrow, like she always does on Friday mornings."

"What the hell kind of American adult doesn't know how to drive?"

"I didn't say I don't know how. I said I don't drive." What the fuck? "Um, the water is probably boiling," she adds quickly, rushing back to the kitchen before I can ask more.

There's not much more I can do on the internet, so I stand up, clutching at my aching side. I follow her into the kitchen to see what she's making for dinner. "What are we having?" I ask.

"Um, just spaghetti." She gives the sauce a stir before turning around. "Sorry it's not more exciting. I really need to do some grocery shopping tomorrow."

"It's fine," I shrug. "Better than prison food." But then I see the empty jar of spaghetti sauce on the counter. Seriously, sauce from a fucking _jar_? I grit my teeth; I'll have to grin and bear it if I want to have any chance of getting laid tonight.

"Have—have you been in jail for a while?" she asks.

"I was out on bail most of the time before my trial. I've been at the Washington Corrections Center up in Shelton for about a month though." A very long month without female companionship.

"The cop said the bus transferring inmates to Stafford Creek ran off the road?"

"Yeah," I nod. "Swerved to avoid hitting a deer or something. Ran off the road and into a tree. In the chaos, I elbowed one of the guards in the face and grabbed his gun, then took off."

She stares at me, mouth agape.

"Don't look at me like that. I can't spend the next 25 years of my life in prison for something I didn't do." Though it wasn't my brightest idea to try to escape from almost-prison with no plan for what the hell I was going to do next.

"Ok, fine," she replies, holding up her hands in surrender. "What would you like to drink?"

"A beer," I answer. Thank fuck, I really need one.

"I, um, don't have any alcohol." I suppress a groan as she starts digging through her fridge. Nice view of her ass again though. She has a nice ass and my mind can't help picturing what it would look like naked as I'm pounding into her. "I can offer you Pepsi or water, or… well, about two sips of orange juice."

"The pop is fine," I answer. Maybe she can buy some beer at Walmart tomorrow, too. I nearly laugh when the old Adam Ant song "Goody Two Shoes" starts running through my head. _Don't drink, don't smoke… what do you do?_

She pours each of us a glass then turns back to our meal, stirring the spaghetti and sauce. I enjoy watching her from behind — her hair is long enough to pull while I'm fucking her. Oh yeah. Now if only I can charm her out of her pants.

When the timer goes off, she quickly prepares two plates and carries them to the table. For sauce from a jar, it's edible enough, especially given what I've been served for the last month. We eat in silence for several minutes before my curiosity wins out.

"So why don't you drive?"

"None of your business," she replies.

"Have you tried?"

"Recently? No. I tried earlier this summer."

"And what happened?"

"Can we not talk about this?" she replies, standing up to rinse off her plate.

"Fine," I sigh in defeat. "Could you put the fire out?"

"What?" she asks, spinning around to face me.

"In the fireplace. Could you put it out? It's hot in here."

Her nose wrinkles — it's kinda cute. "It's not that hot." Suddenly she walks over to the table, laying the palm of her hand on my forehead.

"What are you doing?" I ask, trying to bat her hand away.

"You have a fever. It's probably from your wound. I _told_ you that needed to be cleaned out."

"I'm _fine_."

"No, you're not. Let me try to look at it."

"You're a vet, not a doctor," I scoff. It hurts enough without her poking around.

"Well, unless you plan to turn yourself in, you're not going to get a doctor."

"Forget it," I grumble, standing up from the table. "I wish you had a fucking beer."

While she does the dishes, I head to the bathroom, happy to piss in a _clean_ toilet for the first time in a month, then sit on her couch and pick up the remote control. My side is killing me, and it most certainly _is_ hot in here, no matter what the vet says.

Sometime later, she joins me in the living room. I glance up at her, wondering what the hell she's been doing in the kitchen for so long.

"Ready to let me look at it yet?" she ask snarkily, nodding toward my side.

"No." I don't trust her not to do something to hurt me on purpose.

"What's your name?" she asks, sitting on the far end of the couch from me.

"Edward. You?"

"Bella."

"Beautiful."

"Do you know how many times I've heard that cheesy line in my life?" she snorts.

"Does it work?" I ask with a grin. Please say yes.

"No, it doesn't." Damn.

We sit and watch a movie, the cat curled up in her lap the whole time. I still think it's really fucking hot in here but I don't complain. My side still hurts, and I can see a little bit of blood starting to seep through the bandage.

When I need to piss again, I get up and walk back into the bathroom. I feel a little dizzy when I stand up, and as I stand over the toilet, the feeling only gets worse. I flush, then sit on the closed toilet lid with my head in my hands, trying to get the dizziness and nausea to pass. My head is pounding, and a couple drops of sweat fall from my forehead, making dark spots on the legs of the orange jumpsuit.

All of a sudden, I need to throw up. I stand, lifting the lid and seat just in time to lose my dinner. Fuck.

I continue to kneel on the floor for a few minutes, then stand up, flushing again. I try to rinse my mouth at the sink. I'm not feeling any better; it feels like I've got the fucking flu or something. Maybe I need to let the vet help me after all.

Slowly, I make my way out of the bathroom. I don't see Bella anywhere, but the light is on in the only room I haven't been in yet, so I head over that way to look for her. I find her standing in front of her bedroom closet, her shirt riding up while she reaches for something on the top shelf.

"I don't… feel so good," I tell her. She looks over at me and gasps, then quickly moves from the closet, reaching an arm around my waist to prop me up.

"Let's get you back to the couch."

I take one step and fall to my knees, too dizzy to continue.

"I… can't…" I tell her, looking up at her helplessly. Fuck. Fuck, fuck.

"All right, change of plans — can you get to the bed?"

Her bed doesn't look too far away, so I begin crawling on my hands and knees over there. Bella helps me get to my feet so I can sit on the edge.

By all rights, I should've died from my stab wounds 13 years ago, but I'm not ready to go yet, not for something so stupid as a gunshot that almost missed me. "Am I gonna die?" I ask as she helps me lie down.

"Not if I can help it. I wish you would've let me look at your wound more earlier," she scolds.

"Yeah, yeah… just like a woman to always have to be right."

She helps me get settled with my head on the pillow, then begins taking my shoes off. "You'd better not bleed on my bed," she warns before she starts undressing me. Goddamnit, I wish I could do something about the fact that I'm about to be naked in front of her.

"Trying to have your way with me?" I ask with one eye closed. Maybe she could do all the work; as soon as I don't feel like I need to puke, I mean.

"You wish. I'm trying to make you comfortable."

"Thank you," I tell her, reaching out to grab her hand. I really feel like shit. My life is in her hands right now… and just… fuck.

Nodding, she gives me a small smile. "I'll pick up some things tomorrow to try and fix you up, all right?"

"You won't turn me in?" I still don't understand what would possess her to help me.

"I told you I won't. I'll pick up whatever you need so you can leave. Just try to rest now. I'll be back with a cool washcloth for your forehead."

Rest, yeah that sounds good… I close my eyes, hoping I feel a hell of a lot better when I open them again.

* * *

**A/N: **I'll post twice a week, except this week when there will be three chapters posted. The next two are relatively short. Those who have read Reason For Living know why. ;)

For those who are new to Cheekyward, welcome again, and let me know what you think of him!


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: **Wow, thanks for the great response to the first chapter! I'm so glad everyone is excited to read Cheeky's side of things.

Thanks again to moosals for pre-reading. Stephenie Meyer owns all characters. Also special thanks to edwardisaputz for pre-reading from the male perspective!

* * *

_Friday, September 14, 2012_

"Edward?"

A female voice reaches through the haze of sleep. My first conscious thought is that I let a woman spend the night in my bed. I have to be dreaming; I _never_ do that.

"Edward!" I hear again, louder, as someone shakes my shoulder. A sharp pain in my side brings it all back — murder conviction, escaping when the bus ran into a tree… getting shot.

As my eyes flutter open, a dark-haired angel lifts my head, placing a glass to my lips. "Try to drink something." Obediently, I take a few sips of the ice cold water. My mouth is so dry. She sets the glass down and disappears quickly from the room. Was I imagining her being here at all?

The angel comes back into the room a few minutes later. She brushes a damp washcloth over my face and neck, then folds the covers down to my waist and strokes it over my torso. It feels so good, so cool against my burning skin.

"Hang on just a little longer, ok? I'll be back in a few hours with medical supplies." Medical supplies? Oh yeah… Bella said she would help me; my angel is Bella.

All I can manage is a grunt in response.

She holds the glass to my lips again. "Take a few more sips for me," she orders.

She brushes my hair back, and all I can think about is how good it feels to have a woman touch me… just touching me innocently. When was the last time I thought _that_?

Bella opens the curtains on the bedroom window, then comes back to me, pulling the bandage off my stomach. I close my eyes, trying to hold in my moans as she cleans the wound. I don't even have to look down to know it's bad. I willingly let a wave of unconsciousness take over me.

* * *

"Edward?" Fingers in my hair again… feels so good. My eyelids flutter open to Bella sitting on the edge of my bed. "I need you to sit up a little, ok? I'll help you."

She reaches around my back, underneath my arm, helping me to sit up somewhat against the headboard, then brings the glass of water to my lips. "Drink this, and then I have a pill for you to swallow."

"A pill?" I ask. My voice is hoarse from disuse.

"Yeah. Antibiotics. You have an infection." I briefly wonder how on earth she managed to get antibiotics, but then decide it doesn't really matter. She gives me one pill to swallow, then brings the glass to my lips again. "Drink up."

As I become more lucid, I remember that Bella was going shopping this morning. I wonder what else she got besides antibiotics. Hopefully she got the bobby pins and some clothes at the very least.

"Did you need something else?" she asks, noticing me staring at her.

"Did you buy me cigarettes?" is my first thought.

"No, I did not buy you cigarettes. You should quit — it's bad for you."

"Yeah, yeah, you sound like my mother. Bathroom?" Now that I'm fully awake, I really need to piss.

"Uh… hmmm." She thinks for a moment, then gives me a small smile as she stands up from the bed. "I'll be right back."

Moments later, she returns with the rolling chair from her desk out in the living room. She helps me sit up a little more then move to the edge of the bed. It takes most of my strength to slide myself into the chair.

Bella pushes me in the chair out through the living room and then into the bathroom, before closing the door and leaving me to my own devices. While it's not graceful, I do manage to open the hole in my boxers and scoot myself to the edge of the chair so I can aim at the toilet. I lean over to flush, then use my feet to scoot myself over to the door and open it.

"Ready to go back to bed?" she asks.

"I was kind of hoping my nurse would give me a sponge bath," I suggest cheekily. I don't expect in a million years that she'll actually do it, but damn! She holds a washcloth under the faucet, then wipes down my face and everything above the waist.

"Lean forward," she directs before washing my back. She surprises me even more when she kneels on the floor, washing my legs before standing and rinsing out the cloth.

And I wonder just how far she's willing to take this… "You missed something."

"Are you serious right now?" she screeches. "I am not sticking my hand in your boxers."

I smile at her; eh, it was worth a shot.

"Let's get you back to bed, all right?"

Bella pushes the chair back to the bedroom, then helps me maneuver myself back onto the bed. I look into the sad eyes of this woman who's done so much for me, and… I don't know. I just want her near me for a little while longer. Grabbing hold of her wrist, I ask, "Will you lie down with me?"

"No, I will not," she replies vehemently, pulling her hand out of mine. Well, fuck. "I need to take a look at your wound. I got some supplies from the pharmacy. You probably don't want to be conscious for this one."

"What are you gonna do?" I ask in alarm, lying back.

"Well, minor surgery, basically. I need to clean the wound."

Surgery? The fuck!? I'm no pansy, but the thought of having even "minor" surgery — if there is such a thing — outside of a hospital is just… not something I want. It just _sounds_ fucking painful. But my side already feels like it's on fire; I know it's infected, thanks to my own fucking stupidity in not letting her clean it yesterday.

"Can I have some beer first if it's gonna hurt?" I ask, once I'm resigned that she needs to do this.

"I didn't buy any beer. I told you — I don't drink alcohol."

"Such a party pooper," I mumble. No one said _she_ had to drink it.

"Yeah, yeah," she replies, rolling her eyes. "Get some rest. I'll come back when you're out of it and look at your wound. I'll try not to hurt you too much."

"Are you sure you can fix it?" I ask anxiously.

"No, but you don't really have another choice, do you?"

"No, I don't," I whisper, closing my eyes. Let's just get this over with.

* * *

Soft hands in my hair again. Man, I could really get used to this. I open my eyes, startled to see Bella's face so close to mine. I just stare at her as she treats me with more tenderness than anyone besides my mother ever has.

"You're free," she says softly.

"What?" I ask in confusion. What is she talking about? Was the verdict overturned?

"The handcuffs are gone," she replies, lifting my left wrist. Oh. I thought for a moment there that my nightmare was over, that justice has finally been served. Maybe my wrists are no longer in their metal prison, but freedom still eludes me.

"Did you want some more water?"

I nod and she helps me lift my head, holding the glass of water to my lips. I greedily gulp it down; I'm really thirsty. And my side is _really_ killing me. What the fuck did she do to me while I was out?

"Slow down," she scolds. I grin at her and she smiles back — maybe the first time I've really seen her smile. "Dinner should be ready in an hour or so, all right?"

She starts to leave but I'm overcome with the same feeling from before; I want her near me. Reaching my left hand up, I take her small hand in mine. "Stay with me."

"Edward," she groans, rolling her eyes.

"Please?" I ask in a small voice. I'm just not ready for her to walk out of the room yet.

I can see it in her eyes when she acquiesces. Slowly, she lies down on her side next to me and closes her eyes. I hold tight to her hand, brushing my thumb along her knuckles. I like the feel of her skin under mine. Would I like to feel her naked body underneath me, connected to me? Abso-fucking-lutely. But this is… nice. Really nice. I close my eyes, feeling almost content, despite the mess of trouble I'm in.

* * *

I'm awakened by Bella shaking my shoulder. "Time for dinner," she announces.

She helps me sit up, leaning against the headboard. I see a bowl of soup on the nightstand and wonder how exactly I'm supposed to be able to eat it without making a mess. "Are you gonna feed me?" I ask, nodding toward the bowl.

"Yeah, that was the plan. I was afraid you wouldn't be able to keep anything else down."

Bella takes a spoonful of the soup and lifts it to my lips. Not bad, not bad at all… she clearly made _this_ from scratch and didn't just heat up a fucking _can_ of soup. "It's good," I tell her, pleasantly surprised.

"Of course it's good — I'm known for my vegetable soup." Well, someone's defensive!

After I finish most of the bowl, she gives me the glass of water and another dose of antibiotics.

"How did you get this?" I ask curiously. "Don't they need a prescription?"

"I may have told a little white lie," she replies with a sheepish grin. "Bathroom break again?" Yes, please.

Bella retrieves her chair from the living room again, helps me into it, then leaves me alone in the bathroom. I relieve myself, then open the door and scoot myself out into the living room. I see Bella in the kitchen doing dishes, so I scoot myself over to the kitchen doorway.

"Where did you sleep last night?" I ask, startling her.

"On the couch," she answers, turning around to face me. "Where you'll be once I stop feeling sorry for you."

Ugh. A couch is just one step up from a prison cot. "The bed seems big enough for two," I suggest.

"Forget it. Do you want me to help you back into the bedroom?"

"Yes, please," I reply. The cop's daughter is no fun sometimes.

Bella pushes me back into the bedroom and is about to help me onto the bed when she stops suddenly. "I should change the sheets. You were sweating pretty badly earlier."

I sit quietly in the chair watching Bella as she changes the sheets on my — well, her — bed. Once she's finished, she helps me stand and move to the bed, then pulls the covers up to my waist.

Bella removes the bandage on my stomach then slathers some kind of ointment on it — which fucking stings — before adding a fresh bandage.

"Stay with me until I fall asleep?" my mouth asks without my permission. Goddamnit, when did I become such a pussy?

"You're fine, Edward," she replies, rolling her eyes. "Unless you want me to bring you Leo to use as a teddy bear." I assume Leo is the orange cat — guess it's a "he" after all. "I'll check on you before I go to bed, all right?" she continues.

"Goodnight, Bella," I whisper as she walks out of the room. I'm not going to beg, though I really want her to stay with me.

* * *

**A/N: **Sorry so short! Next chapter will be up on Friday. I'd love to know what you're thinking of my Cheeky!

Also, if you get a chance, there are 15 entries for the Dior Rob contest… one of them might be mine! Check them out and vote before November 20!

Fanfiction / u / 5030168 /


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: **Thanks again to moosals for pre-reading. Stephenie Meyer owns all characters. Also special thanks to edwardisaputz for pre-reading from the male perspective!

My favorite review to Chapter 2: "Boy can't walk but still wants to get frisky."

* * *

_Saturday, September 15, 2012_

"Edward." Someone is shaking me; fuck, let me sleep. "Edward!" It's a woman, but my foggy mind can't register anything else.

"Mmmm… Mom?" I mumble.

"Yes, it's your mother — time to get up for school."

"Don't wanna get up."

"Wake up for me, Edward." Soft hands begin brushing lightly through my hair again. Wait, I know those hands…

I open my eyes, and slowly Bella's face comes into focus. "You're not my mom."

"Not even close," she laughs. "Sit up for me; I bring drugs."

"Yeah? Did you score some weed?" Pollyanna has been holding out on me!

She stares at me, mouth gaping. "Tell me you aren't serious."

Goddamnit, got my hopes up for nothing. A good buzz would really help with the pain in my side. I shrug, using my feet and arms to scoot up until I'm propped against the headboard.

"Sorry to disappoint," she says, not sounding particularly sorry, "But I don't have _weed_ — I have your antibiotic. And some aspirin. Your fever spiked a bit today."

Bella hands me two pills to swallow and then the glass of water. "Do you think you could eat?" she asks. "I can make you some toast."

I nod, swallowing a big gulp of water to wash down the tablets.

"Ok, toast first, then a sponge bath."

"My favorite part of the day," I reply with a grin. I think I see a hint of a smile on her face as she walks out of the room. I really hope she wasn't joking about the sponge bath.

"Hope you like strawberry jam… it's all I had," she says, returning a few minutes later with a plate in her hands, the cat following right behind her trying to trip her up.

"It's fine," I reply, taking the plate from her. "Not gonna feed me this time?"

"I think you can handle eating a piece of toast. I'll feed you some soup later. Will you be ok by yourself while I go start a load of laundry?"

"I'll be fine," I assure her.

By the time I finish my piece of toast, Bella returns with the desk chair again. She helps me off the bed and into the chair, then delivers me to the bathroom, leaving me alone again.

"Ready for my sponge bath, Nurse," I call from the doorway when I'm through. No one is more surprised than me when she rushes to my side.

"This is the last time, you know. By tomorrow you should be able to take a shower. There's a small seat in there, so you don't have to stand."

"You can always help me with the shower, you know," I suggest. I really wouldn't mind being naked and wet with her. Hell, she could even keep her clothes on if she wears a t-shirt. Fuck, yeah.

"I think you'll be able to manage," Ms. Party Pooper replies as she gently begins washing my face and neck. "You're getting kind of scruffy. I didn't think to get you a razor, but maybe you could try to use mine."

"I'm not using a _girl's_ razor to shave." Those little pink plastic things are _not_ intended for a man's sensitive face.

"Suit yourself," she replies with a shrug. She moves on to my torso and I'm struck again by how tender and gentle she is with me. I know I have done nothing to deserve her kindness.

"Thanks for this, Bella. I'm not used to having someone take care of me," I admit quietly.

"What about your mom?"

"Hmmm?" How does she know anything about my mom?

"When you were first waking up, you thought I was your mom," she says.

"I did?" Fuck, I don't remember that. "Well, it's been a long time since I lived at home." Even though Esme continues to this day to try to mother me. She's a saint for putting up with my shit.

"You're only 24, right?"

"How do you know that?" I ask, eyes narrowed. I'm sure I didn't tell her that. Fuck, what else does she know about me? Does she know what I'm accused of? Does she know about… my past?

"Um, from the newspaper — an article about your escape. You know, as soon as you're feeling up to it, you and I are going to have to talk about what exactly you were convicted of." Fuck, so she _does_ know I was convicted of second-degree murder and she's still being so nice to me? I don't understand this chick.

"What difference does it make? I told you I didn't do it."

"Edward — maybe… maybe I can help you. Somehow. I don't know."

After a long sigh, I finally nod. I know I owe her the truth, but I have no idea how she can help. "Tomorrow, ok?"

"Deal," she agrees. "You're all done, ready to go back to bed?"

"Do you think you could try to wash my hair?" I ask, running my hand through it. My scalp is kind of starting to itch since I haven't washed my hair in days.

"Yeah, all right, I'll try to wash it in the sink," she replies, pushing the chair over to the front of the small sink. "Lean back."

She wets my hair, then reaches into the shower, coming out with a bottle of shampoo. As she massages it into my hair, I notice the smell. "Is that strawberries?" I ask, wrinkling my nose.

"Sorry, you'll have to make do with my shampoo."

"I'm gonna smell like a girl," I complain. Jesus Christ, the guys in lock-up would have a field day if they smelled me like this. I'd quickly become someone's bitch.

"Well, I'm the only one who's gonna smell you." I hope to God she's right.

Once she's done, she wraps my head in a towel and helps me sit back up. "I'll change your bandage when you're lying down, ok?"

She dries my hair a bit then wheels me back into the bedroom and helps me into bed.

"Does it look better?" I ask quietly as she removes the bandage on my stomach. It does feel a bit better this morning.

"Yeah, it does. It's not all red and puffy. I think the antibiotics are helping." Thank you, God. Or Vet Bella. She cleans the wound gently, then applies more of that stinging ointment and a fresh bandage. She is just finishing up when I hear a phone ringing from the other room.

"Do you need to get that?" I ask.

"Nah, if it's important, they'll leave a message."

She laughs as the orange cat jumps up on the bed like he's going to keep me company. "He likes you," she says with a small smile. "He usually doesn't like anyone but me. I hope you're not allergic?"

"No, I'm not. He's fine. Leo, you said?"

"Yeah, because he looked like a lion cub when I got him," she explains. "Try to get more sleep, all right? I'll bring soup and toast for lunch in a few hours."

Once Bella leaves, I reach over and pet the cat until he comes to curl up next to me. "Thanks, buddy," I whisper. "Your mama is being pretty nice to me, even if I haven't seen her naked yet. Keep working on her for me."

I can hear her voice in the other room, and I wonder if she called the person back. I think I hear the word, "Dad," and I cringe. I really hope she isn't telling the Chief of Police all about me. When I don't hear anything more, I close my eyes and drift off to sleep, the cat by my side.

* * *

"Edward," Bella's voice wakes me again, then I feel her shaking my shoulder. This must be why I thought she was Mom earlier — Mom had to call me five times to get up for school, and she always ended up shaking me until I got pissed off and crawled out of bed.

"I brought lunch," Bella says after I open my eyes. She helps me sit up, then hands me a plate with another piece of toast. "I brought more soup, too."

"Thank you," I reply, still half asleep. "Did you already eat?"

"Yeah, I did," she nods. "I figured it was easier, yeah?"

"I could get used to being spoonfed," I admit, taking a bite of the toast.

"Well, don't get used to it. Hopefully by tomorrow you'll be able to get out of bed and move around a bit — and have your meals at the table."

I finish most of the delicious soup before I decide to ask her about the conversation I overheard earlier. "You were talking to your dad earlier."

"What?"

"I heard you say 'Dad' but I didn't get a lot of the conversation," I explain. "You said your dad is a cop, right?" As if I could forget.

"Yeah, he is, and he talked to a friend of his on the police force here this morning and learned about your escape. He's worried about me being alone here."

"If he only knew, eh?" I chuckle. "What would he do if he found out you were harboring an escaped convict?" I ask curiously.

"Probably have my head examined," she replies dryly.

I look at her, finally too curious to ignore the elephant in the room. "Why did you decide to help me? You had every opportunity to turn me in when the police showed up. I couldn't have done anything about it."

"Because I believed you — I believed you were innocent."

"I don't think I'm _innocent_," I snort. "But I'm not guilty."

"Whatever," she replies, rolling her eyes. "You looked so scared when the police knocked. In that instant, I held your life in my hands. And I couldn't be the reason why you lost it. I couldn't… have that on my conscience."

Well, fuck… now I know I don't deserve the things she's done for me. Bella may be a bit of a Pollyanna, but she's _good_; she ranks right up there with Mom, I can just tell. Suddenly, I feel like a bit of an asshole for the way I've objectified her in my mind. She's so much more than a hot ass.

"Bella," I begin, taking her hand in mine, "I'll pay you back for this somehow. I don't necessarily mean with money, I—I mean, I'll make it up to you. What comes around goes around, and all that. It's good karma for you to help me."

I'm startled when Bella shakes her hand loose from mine, standing up so quickly that she nearly knocks the tray off the nightstand.

"What?" I ask in confusion. "What is it? What's wrong?"

"Are you finished?"

"Yeah," I reply cautiously, drawing the word out. "What's wrong, Bella?"

"Try to rest some more," she commands, picking up the tray, "Or I'll bring you something to read if you're not tired."

"Bella, wait," I call, but she scurries out of the room without looking back. Ok, that was fucking weird. What the fuck did I say to make her react like that? I was trying to tell her how much her helping me means to me. I was trying to be… nice. So much for being fucking nice.

I can hear water running out in the kitchen; she must be washing dishes. I wait for her to come back and apologize, but then a few minutes later, I hear the front door slam. She left? What the fuck? What if I need her?

Just having lunch took a lot out of me, so I decide to take a nap while I wait for Bella to return, still stewing about her abrupt mood swing; she's giving me whiplash.

* * *

It must be hours later when I wake up on my own. The house is quiet; no sign of Bella. I lie there, staring up at the ceiling and trying to figure out what the heck I did to make her react like that.

I hear Bella's footsteps on the hardwood floor and turn my head, watching as she walks into the room.

"You were gone," I accuse.

"Um, yeah, I went for a walk."

"You look tired," I note, watching the way she's leaning against the doorframe.

She nods. "I tried to take a nap, but I just couldn't get comfortable."

"You can take a nap in here."

"No, I can't," she says, leaving little room for argument.

"You did yesterday," I point out. "I didn't bother you."

She closes her eyes. Yes! She's thinking about it. _Nice work, Cullen._

"You've been taking care of me for the last two days, Bella," I continue to butter her up. "It's time to worry about yourself."

Slowly, she steps into the room. I'd get up and dance if I could, I'm so pleased with myself. "Look, I'll even scoot over so you have plenty of room."

"Thank you," she replies with a small smile as she lies down on top of the covers. "Just for a little while, then I need to go make dinner."

She turns away from me and I close my eyes, happy to have her next to me again. Whatever I did to piss her off earlier, she seems to have forgiven me.

As I sleep, I feel the heat of something next to me. I reach out, pulling myself closer to the warmth. Some part of my unconscious mind recognizes that it's a person. I can't remember the last time I just held someone — if I ever have.

"Jesus!" Bella's scream wakes me up from a very sound sleep. "I thought you weren't going to bother me!" she yells, scrambling off the bed.

"I never said that; I said I didn't bother you yesterday," I point out. She gives me a glare and I can't help laughing at the timid little female trying to look angry and intimidating. "I didn't touch you on purpose, I swear," I tell her honestly. "I must've done it in my sleep."

"I wouldn't have taken you for a cuddler."

"I'm not — trust me." If I do pass out drunk before leaving a woman's bed, or kicking her out of mine, there is _never_ any cuddling going on.

She walks toward the doorway, sighing. "Soup for dinner, or can you handle some fish?" she asks without even looking back at me.

"Just soup, I think."

Fuck, just when she forgave me for whatever the hell my first indiscretion was, I've managed to get on her bad side again! But I was asleep this time, goddamnit. I really didn't do it on purpose. And even if I did, I don't know what the big fucking deal is. It's not as if I was rubbing myself all over her.

I'm getting pretty hungry by the time Bella appears in the doorway, carrying a tray with another bowl of soup. As a rule, I'm not one to apologize, but I don't like her being angry with me. "I'm sorry."

She remains silent, setting the tray down and handing me a glass of water and two pills. When I hand her the glass back, she sits on the edge of the bed and begins to feed me. She doesn't say a word the entire time, or even look me in the eye. And it… well, it _hurts_. I rarely give a shit about what other people think of me, but I don't want Bella angry with me. And not just because I don't want her to turn me in.

When the bowl is empty, Bella stands, reaching for the tray. Needing to fix this, I grab hold of her wrist. "Bella—"

"Get your hand off of me," she replies through clenched teeth.

"Just — listen to me," I persist. She continues to glare at me until I drop her wrist in defeat. "I'm sorry," I tell her sincerely. "Really. I didn't touch you on purpose. I was asleep. I don't get why you're so angry."

"Apology accepted," she whispers before hurrying out of the room. Given the way she hightailed it out of here, I don't know whether to believe her or not.

I fall asleep again for a while, and when I wake up, I really need to piss. I think about calling Bella for help, but decide against it. I feel stronger than I have since I first collapsed on the floor, and I'm determined to do this for myself. I manage to crawl out of bed, and holding onto the wall for support, I head out to the living room. I see Bella look up at me from where she's watching TV on the couch.

Slowly but surely, I'm able to make it into the bathroom for a badly-needed leak. Afterward, I wash my hands then slowly make my way to the couch, sitting down beside her.

"I'll sleep out here tonight; you can have the bed so you can get some sleep." I just want to be back on her good side.

"No, that—that's fine. You're still not 100%. I'll suffer for one more night."

"Am I really forgiven?" I ask timidly, looking her in the eye.

"Yeah," she replies with a small smile. "It's my issue — not yours." Now what the fuck does _that_ mean?

She clears her throat. "Are you gonna sit here and watch TV or do you want me to help you back to bed?"

"I'm sick of lying in bed." Unless she's there beside me, but I know that's not gonna be happening again anytime soon.

"Let me give you the blanket then; you must be freezing."

"Thanks," I whisper as she drapes a blanket around my shoulders. "What are we watching?"

"Just a movie," she shrugs. "Did you want to watch something else?"

"This is fine," I respond as Leo appears from nowhere, jumping up on the couch to sit between us. I tentatively reach out to pet him, still trying to bond with the other male in the house. After a few minutes, he crawls into my lap and curls up. It's not quite the same as touching Bella, or having her touch me, but it'll do for now.

"Edward," Bella whispers, touching my face gently. I open my eyes, staring up at her; I must've fallen asleep. She's actually quite pretty in the soft light. "Time to go back to bed, yeah?"

I nod reluctantly and she stands, holding her hand out to me. I grasp her hand for support, pulling myself to my feet and letting her lead me to the bedroom.

"I'll see you in the morning," she says quietly.

"Goodnight, Bella."

* * *

**A/N: **What's that… a little growth there from Edward?

Say hi and tell me what you're thinking — I don't bite! Cheeky might though.


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note: **Thanks again to moosals for pre-reading. Stephenie Meyer owns all characters. Also special thanks to edwardisaputz for pre-reading from the male perspective!

My favorite review to Chapter 3: "Honestly...dude has a HOLE in his guts & still thinks about Bella being naked!"

* * *

_Sunday, September 16, 2012_

When I open my eyes, it's morning, judging by the sun shining through the curtains. My head feels so much less fuzzy than it has the past couple of days. I stretch a little, working myself up to getting out of bed.

Before I can move, I see Bella walk into the bedroom in her pajamas, then begin digging around in one of the drawers in her dresser. She opens the closet doors and I catch a glimpse of what looks like men's shirts hanging there before she closes them again.

When Bella turns around and glances toward the bed, I snap my eyes shut, not wanting her to know that I was watching her. I hear her footsteps leave the room, then open my eyes again.

What the ever loving fuck? Who the fuck do the men's shirts belong to? There was no sign of a man around here! Why the fuck would she use her girly shampoo on me if there was another option?

Maybe they're her dad's, but she said something about him coming down here to fish. Those looked like the kind of shirts my lawyer wore — not something you wear to fish.

I really need to take a leak, but I can hear Bella is in the shower. She hasn't mentioned picking up any clothes for me on her Walmart trip, but if she had all these here, I guess she didn't really need to buy anything. Slowly, I crawl out of bed and open the closet, looking over the various shirts hanging there. I notice the size in the collar: 18 ½. These belong to a pretty big dude. Now I _really_ hope they're not her dad's.

Not seeing anything casual, I move to the dresser. Bella was looking in the top drawer, so I start at the bottom. Bingo! A stack of men's boxer briefs — ugh, how gay — a few pairs of jeans and a half dozen t-shirts. I choose one of each then sit back on the bed, waiting until I hear Bella banging around in the kitchen before moving to the bathroom.

I remove my boxers — God, they were starting to fucking smell — use the toilet, then turn on the water in the shower.

I frown when I step into the small shower stall — she just has one of those shower poof things and something girly marked Creamy Body Wash in a scent called "Twilight Woods." At least it could be worse — it could be more fucking strawberries.

I feel a little dizzy the longer I stand so I shower and shampoo my hair quickly, then step out and dry off with one of her towels, tossing it into the hamper when I'm done. I step into the pair of navy boxer briefs I grabbed from the drawer, then the pair of jeans. Wow, the owner of these is fucking _tall_. I need to roll them up a couple times so I'm not stepping on them, and I'm 6-foot-2! They're a size too big but not too bad. Letting your underwear show is the style these days anyway. After shrugging the t-shirt over my head, I open the bathroom door and head toward the kitchen.

"What are you making?" I ask, seeing Bella standing over something on the stove.

"Pancakes. Have a seat — they'll be ready in a couple minutes." Mmm, I fucking love pancakes.

"How are you feeling this morning?" she asks, glancing at me over her shoulder. A moment later, she spins around and just stares at me like I'm an exhibit in a zoo. The longer she stares, the redder her face gets — until she almost reminds me of a cartoon character. I can practically see steam coming out of her ears.

"Where the fuck did you get those?" she asks angrily.

"What?"

"Where did you get the clothes?" she asks slowly through clenched teeth.

"In the drawer," I answer with a shrug. Where the hell does she think I got them?

"You were digging through my dresser?" she screeches.

"No! Well, yeah, sort of. I saw the men's shirts hanging in the closet when you were in there this morning, so I figured there had to be more somewhere."

"Take them off!" she yells.

"What?"

"I said, take them off! Those are my husband's clothes — you can't be wearing them!" Her _husband_?! Well, fuck, no wonder I haven't made any progress at getting in her pants.

"What's the big deal? He's obviously not here to see me in them." Where the fuck is he? Why didn't she tell me she has a husband?

"Now, Edward! Take them off," she screams. She seriously looks like she's gonna go postal on me. I don't know what the big fucking deal is, unless her husband is coming home today — in which case, we have bigger problems.

"All right, all right," I huff, pulling the t-shirt over my head and folding it over the back of one of the kitchen chairs. Bella glares at me as I open the button fly on the jeans and begin pulling them down. I add them to the chair with the t-shirt then wonder if she really wants _all_ of the clothes off. _Well, she asked for it_, I think as I grasp the waistband of the boxer briefs and begin pushing those down, too.

"Oh Jesus," she yelps, turning around so quickly she nearly falls over. It's all I can do not to laugh.

"I assume you wanted these, too," I tell her, stepping close enough behind her that I can dangle them over her shoulder. As she snatches them out of my hand, I realize that she really is freaked out over something. Her breathing almost sounds like someone having a panic attack.

"On the chair," she pants.

"What?"

"The clothes I got you. They're still in a bag, on the chair in the living room."

Well, fuck, why didn't she just tell me that before. I head out to the living room, easily finding the Walmart bag on the chair. I pull out a two-pack of boxers and quickly tear open the plastic, then step into a pair. It looks like she bought me both jeans and black lounge pants, so I rip the tag off the lounge pants and put them on, before grabbing one of the t-shirts from the bottom of the bag.

"You can turn around now," I tell her as I step back into the kitchen, still trying to get the fucking tag off the shirt. "I'm not naked anymore."

She turns around slowly and I notice how pale she is. I don't understand why she's so freaked out about me wearing her husband's clothes; he'll never know. I don't think she's faking her reaction though.

"Are you all right?" I ask quietly.

"I'm fine."

She doesn't _sound_ fine. I'm still trying to figure her out when I smell something unpleasant. "Is something burning?" I ask.

"Oh shit," she yelps, turning toward the stove. "My pancakes." She hurriedly takes the griddle off the heat and attempts to scrape the burned mess into the sink. Then she runs the griddle under the water before placing it back on the stove.

"Sorry," I say sheepishly. "I didn't mean to make you ruin breakfast." I throw the t-shirt over my head and watch her waiting for the pan to heat up — she's fucking _shaking_. All this over fucking _clothes_?

"Bella," I place my hand on her shoulder, startling her. "You're shaking. Why don't you sit down and let me finish these?"

"You know how to make pancakes?" she asks skeptically.

"Yeah," I reply, "I'm not totally helpless."

Bella nods then pulls out one of the chairs. She leans her elbows on the table and holds her head in her hands.

As I pour more pancake batter on the griddle, my curiosity about her husband starts to get the best of me. With the button-down shirts in the closet, he seems to be one of those corporate types. Maybe he's on a business trip, but those don't usually last more than a few days, right? This is my fourth day here, so I wonder if he's due home soon.

"Where is your husband?"

"None of your business," she replies quickly.

"I don't see what the big deal was about—"

"Drop it!"

"Someone got up on the wrong side of bed this morning," I remark. I immediately feel a little bit bad for my comment, given how she's still breathing pretty heavily.

"Here you go," I say quietly a few minutes later, sliding two of the pancakes onto the plate in front of her. I add the other two to my own plate then pour more batter onto the griddle for the next batch. When Bella is finished with the butter and syrup, I take them and work on my own masterpiece. As I eat, I glance toward the stove often to make sure I don't burn the new batch.

"Where'd you learn to cook?" Bella asks when I stand up to flip the pancakes.

"I started cooking most of my own meals when I was about five," I shrug.

"Five?" she asks in shock. "Was your mother a terrible cook like mine?"

"Drop it, to quote your answer to me." Fuck, I didn't really intend to tell her something so personal; it just kinda slipped out.

"Fair enough," she whispers.

When the pancakes are done, I slide two more onto her plate and then my own before sitting down to eat again. We continue eating in silence, and when I'm finished, I get up and rinse my plate off in the sink. "Are you done?" I ask, reaching for Bella's empty plate.

"Yeah, but you don't have to wash these. You probably shouldn't be up and around so much yet. Go sit somewhere and I'll take care of the dishes. Oh, and the bottle with your antibiotic is by the PC."

Nodding, I step out of the kitchen, sitting down at the computer. "What's the name of your local newspaper?" I ask.

"It's called _The Daily World_," she replies. "Looking for what they're saying about you?"

"Yep," I nod, finding the website. Of course I'm the fucking top page news, but today's story doesn't seem to have a lot of information beyond the headline: "_Escaped Prisoner Still On The Loose._" I click the links at the bottom and find the original article from last Friday, scanning it quickly. Fuck, Bella definitely knows what I was accused of; I don't understand why she believes me. Feeling like a masochist, I hit up the _Seattle Times_ website for their perspective.

As I'm reading, Bella walks past me, carrying her _husband's_ clothes back into the bedroom. She comes out a few minutes later with a pile of sheets and heads toward the mudroom off the kitchen. Shortly after that she peeks into the bathroom, then I see her carrying my old boxers like they're some kind of hazardous waste. They're not _that_ bad.

I'm startled when Leo jumps up onto my lap out of nowhere, rubs his face against my hand a few times then climbs up onto the keyboard tray. He sits down right in the middle of the keyboard, looking at me in that way that cats have. I laugh at his antics, really wishing I could read his mind. I scoot the chair back, cross my arms over my chest and glare at him, trying to convince him to move.

Bella appears in the living room, shaking her head at my predicament. "Sorry," she says, picking up the cat, who squeals in protest. "Just shoo him away if he bothers you."

Now that she seems calmer and is talking to me again, I suppose I need to tell her about my case. "So you know what I was arrested for," I begin quietly.

"Yeah."

"I didn't do it. I've never hurt anyone," I insist.

She raises an eyebrow and I can't help laughing; fuck, she has my number. "Ok, I may have gotten into a bar fight or two, but I've never hurt an innocent person."

"Ok." Why does she keep fucking saying "ok"? I can't tell if that means she believes me or not.

"On that note — where's my gun?" I ask.

"_Your_ gun?"

"You know what I mean."

"I put it away for now. If you're not going to hurt me, you don't need it."

"Fine," I sigh. "But I'll need it back when I leave." Though the longer I'm here, the more I wonder if I should try to leave town after all. How can I hitch a ride when I'm front page news? I saw some old rusty truck through the bedroom window earlier, but it doesn't look like it even runs, let alone look like reliable transportation. Not to mention — I have no fucking gas money. I'm also not even sure I _want_ to leave, but I don't really want a confrontation with Bella's husband, either.

"Are you ready to tell me about the case now?" Bella asks, pulling me away from my thoughts.

"Not really, but… yeah." I stand up slowly and walk toward the couch. Bella follows me — minus the cat — taking a seat as far away from me as she can get. Jesus Christ, I don't have fucking cooties — what are we, in second grade? Or does she believe what she's read? Is she afraid of me now? Does she think I'm going to hurt her?

"I guess you already know the basics," I begin nervously, running my hand through my hair.

"Yeah, Reverend's wife, robbery gone wrong," she recites.

"Yeah," I nod. "I don't know much more of the circumstances than what the article said."

"If you're innocent—"

"I _am_ innocent," I interrupt.

"If you're innocent, how did the police come to suspect you in the first place?" she asks.

Sighing, I close my eyes. Well, that's the million dollar question. What if she thinks I'm guilty once she finds out what evidence the cops have? "They found my fingerprints in the house," I admit.

"You were in the house?" I nod. "To rob them?"

"What? No!" Fuck, so she doesn't believe I'm a killer, but she thinks I'm a thief? _You're a hypocrite_, my subconscious screams.

"So why were you there?" she asks.

"To fuck their daughter."

Bella's eyes widen and she stares at me like I spoke in Chinese again.

"You had sex with a teenager?" Oh Jesus Christ, is _that_ her problem? She thinks I'm a fucking pedophile?

"I didn't know she was a teenager!" I protest.

"Just… how old was she, exactly?"

"Seventeen," I answer. Hello, the age of consent in Washington in 16.

"All right," Bella sighs, looking totally disgusted with me, "From the beginning, please."

"I met Angela about three weeks before everything went down," I begin. "At a bar. She was dressed to kill — tight low-cut top, short skirt, fishnet stockings, sky high heels. She told me she was 21 and she looked it. I fucked her in the alley behind the bar that night. She was hot, so I gave her my number when she asked for it. She called me a couple times to come over when her folks were out."

"You didn't realize when you went to her parents' house that she was underage?"

"Lots of kids live at home while they're in college. I didn't think anything of it," I shrug.

"Ok, so the police found your fingerprints in the house and contacted you." I nod. "I assume you told them why you were really there."

"Of course I did. But the bitch lied and said she'd never met me." Just thinking about it is starting to piss me off again.

"Angela didn't corroborate your story? Why not?"

"Best I could figure, she had them all fooled into thinking she was some sweet, innocent virgin. You should've seen her testifying in court," I remember angrily. "She had everything but fucking pigtails to make her look young and innocent while she lied through her teeth about knowing me. The bitch was kinky, she was so far from fucking innocent…" I try to stop the mental image of Angela bent over her bed, begging me to spank her while I fucked her from behind, from taking over. _Stay on track, Cullen._

"Um… ok. So the police believed Angela over you?"

"Sure. Like I said, she had everyone fooled and I have a record." Shit. Fuck. I didn't mean to tell her that.

"You have prior convictions?" she asks in a shaky voice.

"One, _one_ prior conviction," I clarify. Goddamn me and my big mouth.

"For?"

"I held up a liquor store when I was 19," I admit. "And got caught."

"Did you serve time?" she asks quietly.

"Yeah," I nod, "Three years." Those three years behind bars ended up being the best thing that ever happened to me. I look over at Bella when she doesn't say anything, and she's staring at her hands in her lap.

"What, are you scared of me now?"

"What? No, no, I'm just… processing it." Yeah, sure. "All right, so… there must be something more. Were there any other fingerprints found in the house?"

"Just mine," I reply, shaking my head. "Well, except for family."

"Didn't the police suspect the family at all? It's usually the husband, right?"

"The good reverend and Angela had airtight alibis," I explain. "Apparently, after his sermon they went out for lunch with a few members of his congregation. Several witnesses said they didn't leave the restaurant until around 2pm. The medical examiner determined she'd been dead for several hours, so it was impossible for either of them to have done it."

"I'm guessing you had no alibi?"

"Well, I had one — I was sleeping it off in my bed."

"Alone?" she asks.

"Eventually."

"Huh?"

"Of course I wasn't alone — it was Saturday night." Unless I had to work too late, I've almost always had company on weekends. "But she had to leave at like 6am to go to work," I add.

"On a Sunday morning?"

"She worked at Starbucks."

"Oh," Bella replies with a frown. "Did you have a job?"

"Yeah, but I didn't have to go in to work until 3:30."

"So no one can confirm where you were between 6am and 3:30pm?"

"Pretty much," I sigh.

"That's still not enough to convict anyone! The real killer probably wore gloves and didn't leave any fingerprints."

"Probably. But I was the only suspect they ever had." Fucking police couldn't do their jobs properly and find the _real_ killer.

"Surely they had more evidence than that?"

"There can't be more evidence, since I didn't do it!" I exclaim.

"Well, circumstantial evidence then, you know what I mean."

I run my hand through my hair angrily. Yeah, there was circumstantial evidence all right — so ridiculous it shouldn't have even been allowed in court. "There were the bullets," I finally admit.

"Bullets?"

"They searched my place and found bullets for a 9mm. That's the type of gun Mrs. Weber was shot with," I explain.

"So you have a 9mm gun."

"No. I did, but I'd gotten rid of it after… well, after I held up the liquor store. Forgot about the bullets though." Sorry, I had a little too much on my mind, getting arrested for fucking armed robbery.

"That's not enough to convict someone!" Bella cries.

"Maybe not you."

"Me?"

"A good girl. Fuck, you almost look as innocent as Angela did that day in court," I remark, looking at her turtleneck sweater and baggy jeans.

"I'm not innocent," she protests.

"Whatever," I reply, rolling my eyes. _No, you're just a Pollyanna._ "The prosecutor managed to convince the judge to allow testimony about my prior conviction, claiming it showed a pattern of behavior. Add to that my not-so-innocent appearance and a jury of my peers convicted me on circumstantial evidence."

"That's… that's…"

"Bullshit," I finish her thought, nodding. "I know. My lawyer immediately launched an appeal, on the grounds that disclosing my prior conviction was prejudicial, but it was denied. Now he's working on getting me a new trial. In the meantime, I'm sent off to the state pen for 25 years to life."

"You survived three years behind bars before, surely you could've lasted a few months? I mean, why try to escape?"

"I saw an opportunity and I took it," I shrug. "That's the way I've always been." I already know it wasn't my brightest idea.

Bella sits twisting her fingers for a few minutes, not speaking. I wish I could know what she's thinking about so hard over there. If she doesn't believe my story, will she turn me in? "Do you believe me, Bella?" I finally ask, unable to take her silence a moment longer.

"Yeah. Yeah, I believe you." Thank God. "Did your parents believe you?"

"Yeah," I sigh. "They'd totally believe I'd rob the place, but not that I'd kill someone. I was on probation though, so I was really trying to do most things by the book since I got out of prison."

"Most things?" she asks with a small smile.

I shrug. "Weed is still illegal in Washington, as are other things I may have sampled. I make no apologies for who I am. I'm out for a good time. End of." If she can't deal with that, it's her fucking problem.

"Why did you hold up the liquor store?" she asks.

"Story for another day," I reply with a grin, standing and stretching.

"You took the bandage off?" she asks suddenly.

"Oh. Yeah, it came off in the shower." I'd completely forgotten about it.

"I should replace it," she insists, jumping up off the couch. "Sit, I'll go get the antibiotic ointment and a new bandage."

Not more of the stinging ointment, fuck… I sit back down, picking up the remote control from the end table. I turn on the TV, flipping the channel a couple times until I see a football game. "Is this all right?" I ask Bella when she returns.

She nods then kneels on the floor. "Lie down for a minute." I try to act tough while she spreads that shit all over the tender wound and then replaces the bandage. "All done. Um, I'll just be at the computer."

I sit watching the game, glancing back a few times to see Bella still at the computer. What the hell is she doing on there? The only thing that would keep me in front of a computer that long would be porn.

I wonder if the Packers are playing later, so I can watch my brother, but then during halftime the commentators mention that they won their game on Thursday night. Well, shit, I could've been watching _that_ on Thursday instead of that chick movie Bella made me watch. At least the Seahawks are on later this afternoon.

As the fourth quarter starts, the game is pretty much a blowout. And I'm getting fucking hungry given that it's after noon. "I'm starving, what's for lunch before the Seahawks start?" I ask her.

"Um, I usually just make a sandwich. And I have some soup left."

I can handle that. I nod at her then head to the kitchen, finding some deli meat in the fridge and a package of bread in the bread box. I heat up the leftover soup in the microwave while I slice up a tomato and assemble our sandwiches. "Lunch is ready," I call out when everything is ready.

"What did you make?" Bella asks as she joins me in the kitchen.

"Soup and sandwiches, just what you said," I shrug, taking a bite of my sandwich.

I've been spilling my guts all morning, so I figure it's Bella's turn to talk now. I want to know more about her. I'd really like to ask more about her husband, but that just seems to piss her off. And I should probably broach the idea of me staying a bit longer.

"Do you have a job?" I ask, breaking the silence. "I know you said you're a vet, but you didn't go to work on Friday. And since you don't drive…"

"No, I don't," she replies quietly. "I mean, I answer questions on an animal blog, but I don't get paid for it." Is _that_ what she was doing over there for so long?

"How do you live?"

"I have money," she answers, not elaborating.

"You're awfully young to be retired," I remark.

"I'm not retired, I'm just… taking a break."

"Why don't you drive?" I try again, but she doesn't reply. "Does that piece of shit run?"

"What?"

"That old truck. I saw it out back through the window in the bedroom."

"Oh. Yeah, it does," she says.

"Could we take it out?"

"For what?"

"I need to get a few more things."

"Like what? I thought you said you'd leave if I removed the handcuffs and got you clothes?"

"How am I supposed to leave? My picture is all over the news, so I can't exactly hitchhike. And if you won't drive, you can't drop me off somewhere."

"So you want to stay _here_?" she asks in shock.

"Well, not forever… just until I can figure something else out. In the meantime, it'd be nice to get my own soap and shampoo, so I don't smell like a woman. And a razor," I add, rubbing my stubbly chin.

Bella stares at me again like she's trying to find the answer to the fucking universe. She's gotta realize that I can't leave without being caught right away. I'm the top story in this fucking small town, and I don't have any fucking money. I _really _did not think this through before I ran off that bus.

"All right," she agrees with a sigh. "We can go out tomorrow, maybe. I want to make sure you're close to 100% first."

Standing, I look over at Bella for a long moment. I'm not completely sure she's saying "all right" to letting me stay here until it's safe to leave, but she's agreeing to go out at least. I don't know how I'll ever pay her back for all of this.

"You don't mind doing the dishes?" I ask. She shakes her head. "Ok, gonna go watch the football game," I tell her with a smile. "It's the Seahawks' home opener."

I make it back to the living room just before the game starts. I missed the beginning of the season while I was up in Shelton. Shortly after I sit down, Leo jumps up onto the couch, coming over to sniff my hand.

"You've been holding out on me, bud," I tell him. "You didn't tell me your mama has a husband." She doesn't seem like the type to cheat on her man, which means my chances of ending this dry spell are pretty much zero. Leo responds by yawning at me, then curling up into a ball on my lap. As I pet him gently, he starts purring, finally falling asleep.

I look up and smile at Bella when she comes to join me on the couch — again sitting as far away as she can. She ignores me, either watching the game or staring into space, I can't tell.

When the Seahawks win the game, I start cheering, happy to see the hometown team off to a good start. When I look over at Bella, she's again staring at me in that way she has. "What?"

"I don't get you," she replies. "Shouldn't you be freaking out about getting caught?"

"What good is that going to do? I intend to enjoy every minute of my freedom. Worrying about things you can't change is a waste of time."

"A waste of time…" she repeats so quietly I can barely hear her. I grab the remote, turning to NBC for the Sunday night game.

"Another game?" Bella asks.

"Yeah, Sunday night football. This is the pregame show though." Looking over at her, I notice just how stiffly she's sitting. I guess I _have_ sort of commandeered her TV all day long. "We can watch something else if you want," I offer reluctantly.

"No, you're fine. I need to get up and start on dinner anyway. I was thinking of making lasagna, is that ok?"

"Yeah, that's fine. I like lasagna." As long as you don't use sauce from a fucking jar again.

"All right — it should be ready in about 90 minutes," she says, heading to the kitchen. I sit watching the pregame show with Leo, eventually hearing her come back into the living room, though she sits down at the PC again.

When the oven timer goes off, Bella returns to the kitchen. "What would you like to drink, Edward?" she calls. "And I don't have beer."

"Whatever you're having," I answer back. "That's something else we'll have to get tomorrow." Man, I could use a beer.

I head into the kitchen when Bella calls that everything is ready. Picking up my fork, I mentally cross my fingers that the lasagna tastes good. I can't eat shitty Italian food after two years working in an Italian restaurant; the spaghetti was an exception, since I was fucking starved for something other than prison food.

I take a bite and hallelujah, it's good! "This is good," I speak up in surprise. "And I'm pretty picky about my Italian food."

"I told you my mom is a horrible cook, so I learned to cook growing up with her."

"In Forks?"

"Mmm?"

"You said your dad is Chief of Police in Forks, right?"

"Yeah, he is. I was born in Forks, but my parents divorced when I was a baby, and I grew up with my mom in Phoenix. When she got remarried and moved to Jacksonville, I came to Forks to live with my dad. I was a junior in high school.

"He couldn't cook either," she laughs. "Until I showed up, he ate all his meals at the diner."

I can't help smiling at her story; Bella seems to really love her dad. I still have no plans to ever meet him, however.

"What about you?" she asks. "Where did you grow up?"

"Seattle." Not that I want to get into _my_ childhood.

Once we're finished, Bella wraps up the leftover lasagna and sticks it in the fridge. Now that I'm feeling up to it, I help her with the dishes, then we head back to the living room. Bella sits petting Leo while we watch the rest of the evening football game.

"Is there anything you want to watch?" I ask when it's over, handing her the remote. I'm trying to be a better guest. She flips channels until she finds some show I haven't seen before. We watch TV together for a few hours until I can't hold back my yawn. That seems to be Bella's cue to get up. She hands me the blankets and pillow from on top of the chair, then wishes me goodnight.

Fuck, she was serious about relegating me to the couch.

* * *

**A/N: **I have to admit that when I first contemplated writing this from Cheeky's POV, I had planned to skip this one and the next two chapters. They're so dialogue-heavy that I wasn't sure how much we'd gain from being in Edward's head instead of Bella's. I tried to put enough of his thoughts in to make it worthwhile… let me know if I succeeded! :)


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note: **Thanks again to moosals for pre-reading. Stephenie Meyer owns all characters. Also special thanks to edwardisaputz for pre-reading from the male perspective!

Glad you're all enjoying being in Edward's head! I've gotten responses ranging from wanting to junk punch him, to enjoying the image of Edward standing naked in the kitchen.

* * *

_Monday, September 17, 2012_

I wake up on the uncomfortable couch with a raging case of morning wood. Thank God. When I hadn't yesterday, I was starting to get worried that something was wrong.

I don't hear Bella up and about, so I grab some clothes and head to the bathroom. As I jump in the shower, I lather up with that girly body wash again and rub one out in mere minutes. Fuck, that was quicker than usual.

Once I'm dressed in a clean t-shirt and the pair of jeans Bella bought for me, I make my way to the kitchen. I'm fucking starving, so I start digging around in the fridge. It looks like Bella bought a fresh carton of eggs at the store last Friday, so I find a skillet and scramble some eggs for my breakfast.

After I wash my dishes, I take a seat at the computer again, bringing up the website for the local newspaper. There's no news on the hunt for me, and the cops are beginning to speculate that I've left the area. Just what I wanted to hear.

I spend some time on the ESPN website to see how my brother did in his game last Thursday, then decide to check out the _Seattle Times_ again. That just pisses me off though when I see quotes from the detective who handled my case spouting some bullshit.

"Oh," I hear Bella's startled voice behind me.

"Good morning," I greet, turning around to face her. The cat is at her feet and meows loudly when she stops behind me. Shaking her head, Bella continues on into the kitchen, and I hear her opening a can of cat food.

"Did you sleep well?" she asks, stepping back into the living room. My eyes are drawn to her hard nipples visible through her thin pajama top, but then suddenly she crosses her arms over her chest, spoiling my view.

"Yeah, the couch is fine," I lie. "Better than a cot in prison — trust me." Well, that part's the truth, but I don't want to make her feel bad by pointing out that it's only marginally better.

"What are you reading?" she asks, nodding toward the computer.

"The Seattle paper. I'm a masochist for wanting to know what they're writing about me. I was kinda famous back in Seattle — or infamous."

"I can imagine," she replies quietly. "Um, I'm just gonna go shower and get dressed. Did you have breakfast?"

"Yeah, I scrambled a couple eggs. I'm good."

Bella fetches some clothes from the bedroom then moves into the bathroom. When I hear the shower turn on, I try not to think about her naked and wet just feet away from me. _Stop it, Cullen. She's married. She's not going to want you._

"Are we still going out?" I ask when she steps out of the bathroom. I don't want to wait too long and give her time to change her mind.

"I—I guess. If you think it's safe."

"I need the gun back if we're going out."

Bella stares at me for a moment, before heading into her bedroom. She comes back out a few seconds later, holding the gun with her sleeve pulled down over her hand.

"Thanks," I tell her, taking the gun and tucking it into the waistband of my jeans.

"Hang on a second." Bella stalks off into the kitchen and I hear her banging around. "Put this on," she says, handing me a hat that looks like something people wear when they go fishing. "Your hair is kind of conspicuous, and the windows in the truck aren't tinted."

I wait by the open front door for Bella to grab her things. God, the fresh air feels good. She locks up behind us and we walk toward the junk heap.

"What year is this thing anyway?" I ask.

"Not sure — 1950-something. It was my granddad's. He lived nearby in Hoquiam, and this used to be his vacation house."

Bella hands me the keys and I unlock the door, climbing into the driver's seat. Of course this ancient thing doesn't have power door locks, so I reach all the way across to unlock the passenger side door for her.

"You sure this runs?" I ask doubtfully.

"It did last month," she replies with a shrug.

I look at her skeptically as I put the key in the ignition. I'm shocked when it actually starts up with a loud roar. I shift to Reverse and slowly back up, then turn toward the road.

"I'll bet this thing can't go over 45," I snort.

"Doesn't really matter on the roads around here."

I drive slowly down the two-lane road until I reach a larger highway that looks a lot like the road the bus was traveling on before the accident. "Turn right here," Bella directs.

After a couple of miles, we arrive at the edge of town. "That's the Walmart," she says, pointing it out. "But we're not going there. I don't want anyone to recognize me out with a stranger. Go a few more blocks and turn left on the 101." When she said Walmart was three miles away, I was picturing it across town, not just on the edge of town. She really does live out in the middle of nowhere.

I make the turn and we cross a bridge over the Chehalis River. There's a sign for State Route 105 and the prison up ahead to the right. Fuck, is this a trick? "Turn left here, stay with the 101," Bella says.

"Thank God… I thought for a minute you were having me drive myself to prison."

"No," she laughs. "Keep going another mile or so until we reach Cosmopolis. There's a drug store right on the 101 that should have what you need. I've only been down here twice, so no one should recognize me."

When I see the drug store, I pull the truck into the small parking lot and shut off the engine.

"Ok," Bella begins, "So we need a man's soap and shampoo. And a razor."

"And deodorant," I add, "Unless you want me to keep using yours."

"Oh gross." I have to bite my lip to keep from laughing at the look on her face.

"Is it too much to ask for a long-sleeved shirt of some kind? Maybe a jacket? Do they sell anything like that?" I'm never going to be able to leave wearing the t-shirts she got for me. I know my tattoos are pretty recognizable.

"I don't know; I'll check. Sorry I didn't think of that when I was at Walmart last Friday. Anything else?"

"Cigarettes and beer," I suggest.

"I am _not_ buying you cigarettes."

"Bella," I pout.

"No." Damn it, that pout usually works on women. "I'll… I'll get you beer. Any particular kind?"

"Sam Adams? Anything but a light beer. Get a few of the six pack of bottles."

"I'm _really_ uncomfortable with this, Edward. I might have to show my ID to get the beer."

"You're allowed to buy beer, Bella. It shouldn't be that strange." Who the hell cares if she's buying beer? It's not like I'm asking her to score me some weed.

"All right," she sighs. "Hopefully they won't look too closely. I'm going to pay with cash though, so there's no record of my purchases."

"I don't get what the big deal is," I admit. "You have a husband, so why shouldn't you buy things for a man?"

Bella remains silent, opening the door and stepping down from the cab. "Duck down or something, so no one sees you."

Once she disappears inside the store, I lock both doors and duck down in my seat. I don't understand Bella at all, I have to admit. Why would anyone give a shit about her purchases? She already bought me clothes from Walmart, so what the hell is her problem with buying me toiletries and a few beers? Doesn't she buy that shit for her husband?

Which reminds me — where the fuck _is_ her husband? I don't think he can be away on a business trip. She doesn't seem at all concerned that he'll be home soon and find me living in their house. Could he be away for an extended period of time, like in the military or something? That doesn't fit so much with the dress shirts hanging in the closet, though. Could he be in the Reserves and have been called up to active duty? That seems to make the most sense.

I know I was pretty out of it for a couple days, but the only person I'm sure she's talked to since I've been staying with her is her father. Why isn't she in contact with her husband? Or has she just not mentioned it to me?

Bella knocks on the window, startling me. I reach over to unlock it and she climbs inside.

"Success?" I ask, nodding at the plastic bag in her hand.

"Yeah, everything but the jacket. I got you a Seahawks hoodie though — it was on clearance."

"Nice," I laugh. I really do feel bad making her spend so much money on me when she doesn't have a job. "Do you want to stop at the place across the street for lunch?" I suggest, pointing at the Maxi Burger sign.

"We can't go in, you know."

"I know; we'll bring it back," I reply. "Just get me the largest burger they have, with everything, and some onion rings."

"Pretty demanding, aren't you?"

"Bella… I told you before, I'll make this up to you — somehow, some way."

"It's fine," she replies quietly. "I'm mostly kidding."

After I drive across the street and park the rust bucket, Bella climbs out of the cab and walks inside the fast food joint. She comes back out a few minutes later.

"Mmmm, that smells good," I remark once she's back. "Can I have an onion ring?" I ask, reaching for the bag.

"No," she says, batting my hand away from the bag. "Let's just get home before someone sees us."

I retrace our steps though the tiny town, crossing the bridge into Aberdeen again, then turning right onto the Olympic Highway. "Here's the turn-off," Bella directs, pointing out the gap in the trees that I was totally going to miss.

"Do you ever walk to town?" I ask curiously as I shut the engine off.

"Sometimes. When it's a nice day and I don't need to buy a lot."

I take the bag of food from Bella and head straight to the kitchen. Bella walks in a minute later, putting the beer in the fridge and pouring us each a glass of Pepsi.

"What did you get?" I ask when she takes a seat at the table.

"I got a small cheeseburger and fries. I can't eat half a cow like you."

"Hey, I have a few days to make up for," I protest, before I go back to stuffing my face. This burger is fucking awesome.

"So, why do you live out here in the middle of nowhere?" I ask. "I didn't realize just how far out you are."

Bella shrugs. "This is where my granddad's house is. It passed to my dad, Charlie, after my grandparents died."

"Yeah, but why did you choose to live _here_, and not in Forks, or in Seattle or something?"

"I lived in Seattle for about nine years," she confesses. "I just… wanted to take a break for a while."

"I bet there's a lot more to it than that."

"Nothing I'm going to share with you."

"Ouch," I reply with a grin. Oh yeah, I'm gonna get the story out of her.

When she's finished eating, I throw away our trash then dry the two glasses after she washes them. I'm dying for a beer, so I dig around in the fridge for the six-packs. I'm glad they were already cold.

"You're going to drink that _now_? It's not even two o'clock." She's looking at me the same way my dad used to when he'd catch me with a beer, and it's pissing me off.

"Stop looking at me like that. I'm not an alcoholic — I just like a beer once in a while." I don't want to fight with her though, so I put it back — for now.

"Give me the gun back, Edward."

Fuck, she's definitely not kidding around. I sulk a little, but I hand her the gun, watching as she disappears into her bedroom. She's probably hiding it in her underwear drawer. Isn't that what women do?

Shaking my head, I go to sit on the couch. When Bella joins me, I notice she's not sitting quite so far away this time.

"So, we should talk," she begins.

"About what?"

"About your case. About how to get you a new trial."

"You don't think I've spent hours discussing it with my lawyer?" I ask.

"Well, sure, but maybe I have a fresh perspective." I don't really expect her to be able to help, but I figure it can't hurt. I nod my consent.

"All right, so, I think the key to your appeal is finding some justification for your fingerprints to be in the house. Either convince Angela to change her story, or find someone else who can corroborate that you two were involved."

I run my fingers through my hair, sighing. "You didn't see the way the cops looked at me, Bella. They looked at me like I was something they'd scrape off the bottom of their shoes. Even if we had that, they'd probably just say that I was only involved with Angela so I could scope out her parents' house."

"But it's not the cops who would grant you a new trial, right? Isn't it a judge?"

"I—I guess."

"I just don't think a judge could look past the fact that a key prosecution witness lied on the witness stand. It seems like it would be a no-brainer to grant you a new trial. And I just can't see a jury of twelve men and women believing _without a reasonable doubt_ that you committed that murder if you had been in the house with Angela."

"You make it sound easy," I reply with a small smile.

"Well, I don't think it's _easy_. I mean, we have to prove she lied first, right?"

"Yeah. Of course, we already tried that. My lawyer almost got held in contempt for the way he badgered Angela in cross-examination, trying to get her to admit that she knew me." The goddamn bitch wouldn't crack, no matter what he did.

"Did any of your friends know you two were dating?"

I can't help it; I burst out laughing at her old-fashioned way of thinking. Jesus Christ, she sounds like my parents.

"What's so funny?"

"Dating?" I repeat with a chuckle. "I wasn't _dating_ her. We hooked up."

"Is that the term these days?"

"You are such a Pollyanna sometimes." Has she seriously never had casual sex?

"Ok, so, did anyone know you two were… hooking up?" she asks tentatively.

I shrug. "My buddy Garrett was at the club the night I met her."

"All right, that's a start," she says.

"Not really… he didn't know her name. He was there when I bought her a drink," I remember. "We danced one dance, then went out back and fucked."

"You… had sex with a girl and you didn't even _know her name_?"

"I knew her name! She told me on the way outside." I'm not _that_ big of a pig. Bella is staring at me, open-mouthed, as if she's completely disgusted by me and it's kind of pissing me off.

"Bella?" I ask, trying to snap her out of it.

"Sorry, sorry. Ok, so Garrett didn't know her name, but he saw her, right? That's something."

"No, it's not," I argue, shaking my head. "Garrett had done a couple lines before we got to the club; I doubt he remembers much of anything from that night."

"A couple lines… of cocaine, you mean?"

"Yeah," I nod, watching her horrified expression.

"Did you… use cocaine too?"

"Not that night. I've always preferred weed, but I've tried pretty much everything… except shooting up. I know that's bad news."

Bella stares down at her hands, and for the first time, I feel a little bit ashamed of how I've lived my life. It _bothers_ me that she's clearly thinking the worst of me right now.

"It wouldn't have mattered, Bella."

"What?" she asks.

"Even if Garrett hadn't been high, he'd never recognize Angela now. I told you she looked totally different when she testified in court. That night at the bar, she had her hair curled, with these pink and green streaks in it, wearing a ton of make-up. In court, her hair was long and straight, plain dark brown, and she wore glasses but no make-up.

"She kinda looked a lot like you," I add, reaching out and fingering a strand of her hair. I noticed it the first night I arrived, but the similarity really is striking.

"Like—like me?"

"Yeah, or you look like Angela — whatever," I shrug, dropping my hand. They may resemble each other physically, but their personalities couldn't be more different.

"Did she hurt you?" Bella asks quietly.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean she lied, she denied your relationship. It's gotta hurt when your girlfriend perjures herself to say she never met you."

"Angela wasn't my girlfriend, Bella — I told you, we hooked up. I didn't care about her except as a good fuck. You know I was with another woman the night before the break-in." Why does she think I gave a shit about this girl?

"Are we done now?" I ask. We've clearly reached an impasse.

"I—I guess, if you're sure Garrett is a dead end. What about your other friends?"

I shake my head. "The next couple of times I saw Angela were at her parents' house."

"You didn't talk about her with your friends, maybe?" Why won't she drop this? Does she really think guys sit around talking about this shit all day?

"I told you — she wasn't my girlfriend. Guys don't usually talk specifics about the girls they're banging." Not once we're too old to brag in the locker room, anyway.

"Ugh, do you have to be so _crude_?" she shouts. "She was a person, not… not just a…"

"Not just a pussy?" I suggest, knowing it's going to piss her off.

"Oh my God," she screeches, jumping up from the couch. I burst out laughing at her reaction.

"Bella, calm down," I say through my laughter. "I said that just to get a reaction from you. And you didn't disappoint."

"You just… have no respect for women, do you?" Oh, Jesus Christ…

"Of course I respect women — and men — as long as they deserve it." Once again, it bugs me that she thinks so badly of me.

Bella closes her eyes, looking like she's trying to calm herself down. "So you don't think any of your friends can help?" she finally asks.

"No, it was a nice try."

"What about _her_ friends?" she asks, sitting back down. "Did you know any of them? Could they vouch for you, or convince Angela to tell the truth?"

"No, I never met—" I start, shaking my head. "Wait! She was with a friend the night I met her."

"Yeah? What do you remember about her?"

"She was cute, with long blonde hair, same colored streaks. Huge tits." Bella cringes and I chuckle, rephrasing, "Huge breasts."

"Did you get her name?" she asks with a sigh. There she goes again, pissing me off.

"Ummm… Jenna? Jill?" Fuck if I know.

"So you don't know."

I shrug. "I wasn't really paying a lot of attention to her."

"Even with the huge breasts?"

"I prefer brunettes," I reply, not bullshitting her at all. "And I'm more of an ass man." Especially yours, Pollyanna.

"All right, think, Edward, can you remember anything else about her?"

I stand up, pacing back and forth across the room a few times as I try to jog my memory. I stop suddenly when I remember something: "They were cheerleaders."

"What?"

"Angela and her friend — they were cheerleaders," I repeat. "Angela had this cork board up on the wall in her bedroom, and there was a photo up there of her and her friend in their cheerleading uniforms. They looked so different that I thought the photo was years old."

"But it wasn't?"

"No, she was a senior in high school. Of course, I only found that out after," I insist.

"Do you know which high school?"

"No, I don't remember, if I ever knew," I reply, shaking my head.

"I have an idea," Bella says excitedly, jumping up from the couch. She grabs a chair from the kitchen, carrying it into the living room and setting it down by her desk. "Sit," she commands, like I'm a fucking dog.

"What are we looking for?" I ask curiously.

"Angela's high school. Maybe it was mentioned in one of the newspaper articles about the case."

Fuck, she wants to read the Seattle paper? I know what's in those articles about my past, and I definitely don't want her to see that. Everyone looks at me differently when they find out.

"Can I look?" I suggest.

"Why?"

"I don't… know if I want you to read all the articles," I admit vaguely. And then a horrible thought occurs to me. "Unless you already have?"

"I've only read the local ones. Since when do you care what I think of you?"

"Just… please?" I beg. I'm not ready for her to know everything about me, not when I'm sure she's hiding something.

"Fine," she agrees, sitting on the kitchen chair instead. I take a seat on her desk chair and bring up the browser window.

I search through the various articles, trying to find the information we're looking for. I can vaguely recall an article that profiled the victim, saying what a loss it was to the community. Maybe that one mentioned her family. After about 10 minutes, I find the article I was looking for, and there is Angela's high school in black and white.

"I got it!" I shout. "Northgate Christian Academy."

"Great! See if they have a website."

I Google the school, easily finding a link to their website. "What are we looking for?"

"I don't know — anything that will tell us the identity of Angela's friend."

I look around at the various menus, clicking on the Events tab, then Homecoming. "Photos from last year's homecoming," I tell Bella when I see her trying to look over my shoulder.

I scroll down the page, stopping suddenly when I see a photo of Angela. "There." I turn the monitor so Bella can see, reading the caption that says she's with two of her friends, Lauren Mallory and Jessica Stanley.

"She looks…"

"Not at all like the girl I knew. That's her friend," I say, pointing at Jessica.

"I could tell by the, uh, breasts," she replies. While she's not my type at all, they do look even more spectacular in her fancy dress than they did that night at the club.

"So we know her name. Now what?" I ask.

"Can you find out anything else about her on the website?"

It takes another ten minutes of searching until we stumble on a list of last year's top 10 ranked students — with Jessica Stanley at the top of the list. "Damn it," Bella curses.

"What is it?"

"It says she plans to attend Dartmouth in the Fall."

"So?" Who cares what college she's attending?

"Dartmouth is in New Hampshire."

I close my eyes, defeated. "Which means our only link to Angela is on the other side of the fucking country."

"I'm afraid so."

Angrily, I close the browser window, scooting the chair back and standing up. "So we've wasted the entire fucking afternoon on a dead end." Still pissed, I head into the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of beer from the fridge. "Don't you say a word."

"I… wasn't going to. I'm sorry, Edward."

I sit heavily on the couch, leaning my head back as I try to calm down. I don't want to be on the run for the rest of my fucking life. I sit up, taking a long pull from the bottle. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Bella sitting down at the computer again.

I sit drinking my beer, stewing about my fucked-up life. Some would say it's all my own fault for getting involved with Angela in the first place. But how was I to know where it would lead? I've never been the slightest bit apologetic about my lifestyle, but for some reason, I really don't like it when Bella judges me.

"Is it ok if I just reheat some lasagna for dinner?" Bella asks after an hour or so.

I nod, listening for the beep of the microwave before I finally stand up and head into the kitchen. "Thanks," I say quietly when I notice she's set another beer by my plate.

We eat in silence before Bella says she'll take care of the dishes. I return to the living room, turning on the TV to Monday Night Football.

I'm startled a few minutes later by the sound of Bella's cell phone ringing.

"H—hello?" she answers, picking it up from her desk. She walks over to the couch, sitting down on the arm. I look over at her anxiously, wondering who it is.

"Hey, Alice," she says, motioning at me to turn down the volume on the TV. "I—I'm still pretty sick, actually. Taking lots of cold meds," she lies.

"_This_ weekend? I don't know. I don't want you to catch anything." She makes this incredibly fake coughing sound and once again I try not to laugh at her poor acting skills.

"My birthday was… interesting. It won't be one I'll ever forget." When was her birthday? She never said anything about it.

"Maybe," she laughs. "Nothing I can talk about."

"All right, bye, Alice." She ends the call, closing her eyes and breathing heavily again. Fuck, is she having another panic attack?

"Bella? Are you ok?" I ask quietly. She nods. "A friend of yours?" I ask curiously. She nods again. "When was your birthday?"

"Thursday," she whispers. Fuck, the day I got here?

"Why did you lie to her about being sick?"

"Because she wants to come visit next weekend."

"Oh… yeah, that would be a disaster," I reply, standing up from the couch. Bella really looks freaked out; now that we have some, a little alcohol should help take the edge off. I grab two beers from the fridge, handing one to her. "Drink it. You look like you need it."

"On one condition."

"What's that?" I ask with a grin. I love a good negotiation.

"You give _me_ the remote control. No more Monday Night Football."

"Deal," I laugh, clinking my bottle to hers.

* * *

**A/N: **Growing up a little bit, maybe? And he's got his beer, yay!


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note: **Thanks again to moosals for pre-reading. Stephenie Meyer owns all characters. Also special thanks to edwardisaputz for pre-reading from the male perspective!

My favorite review to Chapter 5: "LMAO...he wakes up ONE day without wood & he's freaking out?"

* * *

_Tuesday, September 18, 2012_

A load banging wakes me up from a deep sleep. What the hell? Is someone at the door?

"What's the noise?" I mumble sleepily.

"Sorry," Bella calls from somewhere in the house, "Just me."

Yawning, I put my feet on the floor, deciding to go investigate. I take two steps and realize I've got a raging boner again. Adjusting myself, I continue on my quest.

I find Bella in the kitchen, her back to me as she's working with something on the counter. I take just a moment to admire her ass one more time before asking, "What are you doing?"

"Making breakfast. Cinnamon rolls," she explains. "Did you want me to hold off for a few minutes before putting them in the oven so you have time to shower?" she asks, turning around to face me.

Her eyes get really wide as she stares at me. I can't help noticing exactly where her eyes are directed, and I have to admit that it's fucking turning me on to have her notice my morning wood. I can feel myself getting harder, and she blushes adorably at the realization that I caught her looking.

"You might need to give me a few extra minutes in the shower," I respond with a grin, turning toward the bathroom.

This time in the shower I try to picture the last sex I had, the pale redhead who gave me a fucking fantastic blowjob the night before my trial started. Both my parents and my lawyer kept me on a short leash during the trial, not letting me hit the bars.

I work my lathered-up hand over my dick, remembering her plump red lips. Suddenly she starts to morph in my mind, the long, wavy red hair turning into dark brown hair. "Fuck," I gasp as I realize I'm now picturing Bella sucking me off. I come in long spurts against the tiled wall, panting. "Stop it, Cullen," I scold myself. "She's fucking married."

I step out of the shower and dry off. As I reach for my clothes, I realize I forgot them, so I brush my teeth and shave, then tuck the towel around my waist and open the bathroom door.

"Mmm… those smell good," I say as the smell of the cinnamon rolls baking hits me.

"Should be almost ready," Bella confirms, turning around from where she's folding up my blanket.

"Jesus, do you have no shame?" she asks, her eyes roaming up and down my mostly naked body.

"What?" I ask with a shrug. "I forgot my clothes." Reaching into the Walmart bag, I pull out the pair of boxers I was wearing when I arrived, then drop the towel.

"Oh my God," she shrieks, spinning around quickly. I totally forgot Bella was standing right there — yeah, if you believe that, I have some nice swampland to sell you. I can't help chuckling at her reaction, though.

"You can turn around, Bella," I announce once I've pulled the boxers up.

She peeks over her shoulder first, then turns around to face me. "You really have no shame at all, do you?"

"I'm not ashamed of my body," I shrug. "Oh, we might need to do more laundry today — this was my last pair of boxers." I step into the lounge pants, grabbing the t-shirt I wore on Sunday.

When the oven timer beeps, Bella dashes back into the kitchen. I take a moment to analyze her reactions to me. She's freaked out by the sight of my body, but I can't tell if she's disgusted or attracted to me. Maybe both? Shrugging again, I follow her into the kitchen and take my seat, my mouth watering at the sight of my breakfast in front of me.

"Thanks. So what are we gonna do today?" I ask.

"Do? I don't know. We probably shouldn't attempt going out again."

"Yeah, probably not," I agree.

"How's your wound?"

"Fine. It doesn't hurt. When do you need to take the stitches out? Or are they the dissolving kind?"

"I need to take them out, but I'm not sure when. I've only ever stitched animals before. I can take a look at it after breakfast."

"Ok," I reply, drinking a long gulp of my milk.

"I assume you want the last roll," Bella says when my plate is clean.

"Sure," I grin, "If you don't mind."

Once I finish it, she takes the plates and glasses to the sink to wash them, while I dry them and put them away.

"Come on over to the table and I'll look at your wound," she says when the last dish is put away. She sits on one of the chairs, motioning me closer until I'm standing right in front of her. The position is strikingly similar to what I was picturing in the shower earlier, and I can't resist teasing her.

"Mmm… now this is a position I like," I remark, grinning at her.

"Oh my God, don't you ever stop?" she growls, standing up quickly and walking across the room.

"Kidding! I'm kidding, Bella," I laugh. "Once again, you don't disappoint." She remains standing several feet away, glaring at me with her arms crossed in front of her chest. Fuck, I think she's really pissed. "Sorry, sorry… I'll behave."

With one last glare, Bella returns to her seat, lifting up my t-shirt to check out the healing wound on my stomach. "Hmmm… better give it a couple more days, I think."

"You're the doctor," I shrug, heading into the living room.

I start flipping channels on the remote control, trying to find something interesting. Bella joins me when she returns from starting a load of laundry. My options aren't good: reruns of the _Golden Girls_, _Live with Kelly and Michael_, _Rachael Ray_… I'd actually watch if she was cooking, but it's a fucking talk show.

"Ugh," I groan, "I swear, there is nothing on TV. This is why I never got up until noon." Bella laughs at me, so I ask, "What do you do all day, all alone out here?"

She shrugs. "Surf the web, reply to e-mails, answer questions on the animal blog I write for. And I read. Would you like to borrow my Kindle?"

I wrinkle my nose; I haven't read a book since high school. "You never read?" she asks.

"Not really."

_The Price Is Right_ comes on after Rachael Ray, so I watch that for about as long as I can take it, then stand up, stretching. "I am so bored!" I complain.

"Well, it's not my job to entertain you!" Bella says sharply. "You were the one who crashed into _my_ life, remember? It looks like a beautiful day outside… go take a walk around the lake or something."

"Sorry," I apologize. "I don't mean to sound like I don't appreciate you or everything you've done for me. Will you get mad if I grab a beer?"

"Yes."

"Fine," I sigh, rolling my eyes as I sit back down. I suffer through one more game, but I feel like I'm losing brain cells. "Where's your cat? Can I play with him?"

"Leo was sleeping in the middle of my bed when I gathered the laundry earlier. Go ahead and wake him up if you want. His pile of toys is over there in the corner."

I walk into the bedroom, finding the cat curled up in a ball, just where Bella said he would be. I sit on the edge of the bed, petting him gently until he opens an eye and looks at me. "Sorry, buddy," I whisper. "Want to come play with me for a while?"

He doesn't answer of course, but I pick him up anyway, carrying him out to the pile of toys. I find a small ball with a rattle in it and roll it across the floor a couple of times until he pounces on it. I wish Leo was a dog that would fetch a stick for me or something. When he tires of the ball, I hold a feather on a string in front of Leo's face while he bats playfully at it. Well, maybe he's not so bad.

"It's almost lunchtime. Is fish ok?" Bella asks suddenly.

"Yeah, fish is fine. Is it in the fridge?" When she nods, I offer to make lunch. That should keep me entertained for a while.

I find the trout in the fridge, season it and add it to a skillet to cook, while I try to figure out what kind of sauce I can make with Bella's limited ingredients. It's only Tuesday, but maybe I can make a list of things for her to buy at the store on Friday.

When everything is ready, I let Bella know that lunch is ready. "You cooked this?" she asks in shock, taking a seat at the table.

"Yeah, told you I wasn't helpless."

The way Bella compliments my food reminds me of how my mom has always encouraged my cooking. As I think about her, I start feeling pretty guilty over how worried she must be about me. I didn't think of her or my dad at all when I made the snap decision to try to escape. I'd really like to call home, just to tell her that I'm ok.

As we finish lunch, I get up the nerve to tell Bella what I've been thinking: "I want to call my mom."

"Call her as in… on the phone?"

"Yeah," I nod. "She must be worried sick about me."

"You can't call her with my cell phone! There's no telling what kind of tracers or whatever the cops have in place, just expecting you to call home. It's far too dangerous — for me as well as you."

"You really think they have her phone tapped?" That just seems like something that happens in cop shows on TV.

"You're a wanted man, Edward. Remember my dad is a cop… I wouldn't put anything past them in trying to find you. You can get a lot from a person's cell—"

"Oh my God," she yells. "How did we miss this yesterday?"

"Miss what?"

"The phones," she explains excitedly. "You said Angela called you to come over. You guys would have each other's numbers in your Contacts."

"Sure, Angela had my number, but don't you think she's deleted it by now? Hell, she might even have a different phone." I wouldn't put anything past that bitch.

"What about _your_ phone though? Where is it?"

"All my stuff is at my parents' house. I moved back in after I was arrested. I never had her number though," I admit.

"You didn't? Why not?"

I shrug. "She gave me her digits and I punched them in and called her, then she saved my name and number. I never saved hers though."

"Why not?" Bella asks.

"You really want me to answer that?" I just know she's gonna get pissed at me.

She nods, so I continue, "Because I wasn't planning to call her. I don't need to call women when I'm looking for a little action. _They_ call _me_, or I can hit the nearest bar and pick someone up. I never wanted to look desperate."

"You think pretty highly of yourself, don't you?" she comments, her eyes narrowed.

"It's just a fact, Bella. Women want me; they love the bad boy. You're the only woman I've met who seems to be immune to my charms." Even married women usually want me; she really is an oddity if she's not attracted to me, and I'm not just saying that to be cocky.

"You still called her though," she says. "Her number would be in your call history, and hers would be in yours."

"But that was months ago and the call history doesn't really go back that far, does it?"

"You can request detailed records from your cell phone provider. Well, _you_ can't, but someone can do it for you."

"Like my mom, if you let me call her."

"No, you are not calling her from here. It's probably not even safe for you to use a pay phone — if we could even find one — since that would also tell the cops you're still in the area.

"I get that you want to let her know you're all right, but not by calling her."

"What about on the internet? I saw you have a webcam. Do you ever use Skype?" I ask. She probably does have a point about the phones.

"I Skype my dad, but… just being able to see my house on the webcam makes me uncomfortable."

"Do you ever use any chat programs?" I persist. "My mom uses Skype and g-chat to talk to my brother."

"You have a brother?" she asks suddenly.

"Yeah," I admit. Damn it, my big mouth again.

"Why didn't I know that?"

"It never came up in conversation," I shrug. "What about chatting with Mom?" I ask, changing the subject.

"I do have g-chat, but we can't use _my_ account." Why is she being so fucking difficult? Surely the cops can't be tracking Mom's internet — that's some real Big Brother shit right there.

"Simple, we'll make a new one. We can just send something pretty generic until Mom lets us know it's safe."

Bella is quiet and I hope she's thinking about it. It's not just about setting Mom's mind at ease anymore, not if she's able to help me. I understand that using the phone could be dangerous — for her as well as for me — but I can't believe they've hacked into her computer or some shit.

"Ok," she finally agrees.

I rush to the computer, open the g-chat program and create a new identity while Bella brings one of the kitchen chairs over again.

"Sunshine?" she asks, noting the name I'm using.

"It was her nickname for me," I shrug.

"Your mom called you Sunshine? Like _you_ are a ray of sunshine?" she giggles.

"Go ahead and laugh. She'll know it's me." I search for Mom's account, my heart falling when I see the little indicator that she's offline.

"Fuck, she's not online," I grumble. "I can still send her something she'll read when she logs on. She'll probably log on after work."

"What does your mom do for a living?" Bella asks.

"She owns her own interior design firm."

"Really? What's her name?"

"Esme Cullen. Why?"

"My friend Alice is an interior designer up in Seattle."

"The one you talked to last night?"

"Yeah… small world."

"What should we say to her, do you think?" I ask.

"Something generic, but let her know that we know who she is, that this isn't random."

**Sunshine: hello Mrs. Cullen**

"And now we wait," I say, standing up. "I'm gonna get a bottle of water — you want one?"

"I'm good."

I pull a bottle of water from the fridge, then return to the computer and take a seat, twisting the cap off.

"So tell me about your brother," Bella proposes. "What's his name?"

"Emmett."

"I guess he doesn't live in Seattle if your mom talks to him online?" she guesses.

"Right," I nod. "Emmett lives in Wisconsin."

"Wisconsin? Why there? Is it for work?"

"Yeah, he plays for the Packers."

"Your brother is a professional football player for the Green Bay Packers?" she asks, sounding shocked. I'm_ more_ shocked that she actually knows the full team name.

"Yep. You want to see him?" Bella nods, so I open another browser tab, finding the NFL player website and typing in Emmett's name. "There he is," I say, turning the monitor a little for her.

She stares at Emmett's photo, her brow wrinkling a bit. "He looks nothing like you."

"Well, he shouldn't. We're not biological siblings." Fuck — did it again.

"You're not?"

"No, I'm adopted," I confess quietly.

"Is Emmett adopted also?"

"No."

"He's also 24… same age as you?"

"Yeah," I nod. "Emmett is five months older than me."

"You said you started cooking your own meals when you were five years old — was that with your biological parents?" she asks nosily.

"Yes." Please stop talking about them.

"How—how old were you when you were adopted?" Fuck, I really don't want to tell her, but maybe if I give a little, she will too.

"Eleven," I whisper. Fuck, I don't like thinking about it. I don't like remembering.

All of a sudden, Bella reaches her hand up, cupping my cheek. Shocked, I turn my eyes to hers, nuzzling into her soft hand. "It's ok, Edward," she says, stroking my cheek with her thumb. "I won't ask for more details than you want to give me."

God, how does she know me well enough to realize how much I hate to talk about this? "Thanks," I whisper, giving her a small smile. She slowly strokes her fingers down past my jaw to my neck before pulling her hand back. There's that tenderness again that I remember from when I was laid up in bed. I hadn't imagined it.

A ding from the computer interrupts before I can convince my fingers to reach out and touch her the same way.

_DesignsByE: Do I know you?_

_DesignsByE: Edward, is that you?_

**Sunshine: it's me, mom**

_DesignsByE: Oh my God, Edward! I have been worried sick about you. Are you ok?_

**Sunshine: i'm fine**

_DesignsByE: Where are you?_

**Sunshine: you know i can't tell you that**

**Sunshine: is it safe to talk?**

_DesignsByE: Yes, yes, it should be fine. Carlisle is still at the hospital, so I'm alone. I'm pretty sure the police are monitoring our calls though._

"Carlisle?" Bella asks.

"My dad. He's a doctor."

_DesignsByE: Are you sure you're all right? The thought of you out there all alone…_

**Sunshine: i'm not alone, mom**

_DesignsByE: You're not? You're with one of your friends?_

**Sunshine: you could say that**

**Sunshine: mom, i need a favor**

_DesignsByE: Of course, Sunshine! Anything._

**Sunshine: get my cell phone records, there might be something there to prove that i knew angela, so i can get a new trial**

_DesignsByE: Mr. Marks has been working hard on preparing the motion for a new trial. We'll get it, Edward._

**Sunshine: thank you**

_DesignsByE: Edward, please, please turn yourself in. We'll have you out in a few months. It's just, the police are saying you're armed and dangerous, and I'm so afraid that someone will shoot first and ask questions later._

**Sunshine: i'm fine, mom, and i'm not turning myself in**

**Sunshine: one more thing, angela's friend jessica stanley was there when i met her, but she might be at dartmouth, can you try to find her?**

_DesignsByE: All right, I'll tell Alec that, too. Please be safe._

**Sunshine: always :)**

_DesignsByE: I love you, Edward._

**Sunshine: me too, delete the chat log and i'll message you again in a few days**

After I close the chat window, Bella puts her hand on my shoulder. "Have faith, maybe your lawyer will find something."

"Yeah," I reply quietly. I just want this fucking nightmare to be over.

"Do you want to go for a walk?" she suggests. "Put on your jeans and the hoodie and we'll walk around the lake, all right?"

"Ok," I agree, standing up. I find my jeans in the bag then decide to use the bathroom before getting changed. I throw the hoodie on and meet Bella at the door.

"It's beautiful out here," I remark as we reach the lake. "It's peaceful."

"Yeah, that's exactly what I thought when I first moved here."

"Is this where you went a couple days ago when you left?" I ask curiously.

"Yeah, I did a few laps around the lake."

"I guess I understand more now why you were so upset. I didn't know then that you're married." I still think I wasn't doing anything intentionally wrong in touching her, though.

"Hmm."

Bella and I spend a couple of hours walking around Lake Aberdeen, mostly in silence. I'm tempted to ask more about her husband, but we're getting along right now and I don't want to mess that up. The longer I'm here, the more odd I'm finding it that Bella doesn't talk about him. She said earlier that she Skypes with her dad, but what about her husband? If he's away for an extended period of time somewhere, shouldn't she Skype with him, too?

"I saw some chicken defrosting in the fridge when I got the fish. Were you planning on that for dinner?" I ask as we head back to the house.

"Yeah, I usually bake it."

"I'll cook again. You do enough for me," I tell her with a smile.

"Are you sure?" she asks skeptically.

"I'm sure. You sit down and relax and I'll call you when it's ready. I'll feed the cat, too."

I start digging around the cabinet in the kitchen, finding some rice, so I decide to make a risotto. I get that on the stove, then pound the chicken breasts flat, stuffing them with an herbed cream cheese mixture before placing them in the oven.

I find the stash of cat food in the mudroom and open a new can of Chicken & Gravy, figuring the cat can eat the same thing we are. Leo comes running before I can even spoon it into his bowl. I pet him a couple times as he enjoys his meal, which smells absolutely disgusting.

When the chicken is done, I call Bella into the kitchen. "_You_ made this?" she asks in disbelief when she sees her plate.

"Do you see anyone else here?" I ask, rolling my eyes.

"How did you learn to cook like this?"

"On-the-job training."

"It's really good," she compliments me after taking a bite.

"I have to earn my keep around here somehow." If I can't show her a good time in the bedroom, then at least I can cook for her. I'm not really talented at anything else.

We're both almost finished with our plates before I bring up my conversation with Mom. "Do you think my lawyer will be able to get the information we need?"

"He should be able to get the cell phone records, for sure. I'm less certain about finding Jessica. How come he never requested the phone records before?"

"I don't think he knew there was anything to find," I admit sheepishly.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, I'm not sure that I ever told the police Angela called me," I begin.

"The cops showed up at my work late one night, dragging me to the station to question me about a break-in and murder. At first I had no idea at all what they were talking about. I hadn't done anything, so why would I? I don't usually watch the news or read the paper, so I didn't know anything about the case.

"Eventually they told me that my fingerprints had been found in the home of the victim. They told me her name at some point, but it meant nothing to me — I never knew Angela's last name, so I didn't make the connection at the time.

"They got a search warrant to go through my apartment and several weeks later they arrested me. It was only when I was formally charged that I saw the address of the house and realized it was Angela's. Before that, I just figured they were lying about having evidence to get me to admit to a crime they had no other suspect for."

"Why would the police come up with your name as a suspect if the fingerprints weren't real?" Bella asks curiously.

I shrug. "I have enemies — any one of them could've lied and given them my name." So I may have ticked off a few guys by fucking their girlfriends. I'll never deny a woman who wants me.

"Once I realized the victim was Angela's mother, I told the cops about meeting Angela at the bar and that I was in the house to fu— have sex with her," I amend quickly, before Bella can get pissed off again. The more I try to remember, the more sure I am that I probably made it sound like we met at the bar and went to her place for sex the same night. "I was so sure they'd just talk to her and everything would be straightened out."

"And your lawyer?" she questions.

"He was there when I was talking to the police, but I never really went over my story step-by-step with him the way you went through it with me. He had a copy of my testimony from when the cops recorded it.

"I know now I should've told him every detail. I just… I thought Angela would tell the truth and it would all go away. I never imagined that she'd lie in court like that and let me get convicted for something I didn't do."

"Well, you have a chance to change it now," Bella says. "The phone records should prove that you two were involved."

"Will they prove it in time though?"

"In time for what?"

"Before I get caught, or die of boredom," I reply with a grin.

Sighing, Bella stands up, collecting our plates to wash. I help her dry them again before we go relax in the living room.

"You're not gonna make me watch that stupid reality show again, are you?" I ask, flopping on the couch. "It's Tuesday night — Chopped is on the Food Network. That's my favorite show."

"Yes, we're watching The Voice again," she insists. "You can watch Chopped when it's done. Your favorite TV show is a cooking show?"

"What did you think it would be? CSI?"

"I guess I never thought about it," she replies as Leo jumps up to join us. "Hey, boy, you want to give me some attention tonight? I think you like Edward better than me."

"Of course he does — bros before hos. And you're the one who obviously had him neutered. I'd hold a grudge for that one, too."

* * *

**A/N: **Would _you_ turn around if Edward dropped his towel in front of you?


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note: **Thanks again to moosals for pre-reading. Stephenie Meyer owns all characters. Also special thanks to edwardisaputz for pre-reading from the male perspective!

My favorite review to Chapter 6: "Of course you would stare at him, it is a law of nature! His rod is a magnet for your eyes?"

Happy Thanksgiving to all of the Americans! :)

* * *

_Wednesday, September 19, 2012_

Fuck, this couch is really getting to me. I wake up repeatedly throughout the night, finally giving up around 8:30. After a quick shower, I sit down at the computer to check out the local newspaper. I'm only sitting there for a couple of minutes when I hear Bella's footsteps on the hardwood floor behind me.

"Good morning," she calls.

"Hey. I figured I'd make us omelets while you're in the shower, ok?"

"Sure, yeah, that sounds great," she replies. "See you in a few minutes."

I finish checking out the website, then head into the kitchen to start on breakfast, beginning with frying a few pieces of bacon and crumbling it. I crack what's left of the dozen eggs into a small bowl, beat them, season them, then pour half of the mixture into a skillet.

"Almost ready," I call over my shoulder when I hear Bella exit the bathroom. "I made some bacon earlier to put in mine — do you want some too, or just cheese?"

"Yeah, bacon would be great. And I think there's a tomato in the fridge."

I quickly dice the tomato, then sprinkle half the pieces onto the omelet along with the bacon and shredded cheese. I'm starting to get really hungry, but since I eat much faster, I know I need to feed Bella first.

"Breakfast is served," I announce, sliding the omelet onto Bella's plate with a flourish. I pour the rest of the beaten eggs into the skillet and start on mine.

"I used up all your eggs, sorry," I tell her as I sit down with my own plate.

"That's all right," she responds. "I'll get more on Friday when I go to Walmart with Mrs. Cope again."

"Who is Mrs. Cope?"

"She's a retired teacher who lives in Hoquiam. She was one of my dad's high school teachers. I ran into her at Walmart right after I moved here, and she recognized me from when he used to bring me down here to fish. When she found out I didn't drive, she offered to help me out by giving me rides. She's a nice widow — I think she's bored," she finishes with a smile.

"Pretty long walk to town if she wasn't helping you," I note.

"Yeah… I was thinking I'd have to get one of those carts like people in New York City use to carry things around."

Bella stands to rinse off her plate, then compliments me on my cooking once more. "You really are a good cook."

"Thanks," I reply, embarrassed by her praise. It's really the least I can do for her.

Once the dishes are finished, I suggest that we go for another walk around the lake since it looks like a beautiful day outside.

"What were you doing on the PC earlier?" Bella asks curiously as we walk along the lake path.

"Reading the local news. The opinion seems to be that I'm long gone from the area. The cops are trying to calm the residents and tell them there's no reason for concern."

"Well, there's not."

"No," I agree quietly. "Why did you believe me that first day?" I ask. I still don't understand the explanation she gave me earlier.

"I'm not sure I can really articulate it, Edward. I saw the look in your eyes when the police knocked on the door. You looked terrified, panicked. It just… wasn't the look of a guilty person. And then there's Leo," she chuckles.

"What about him?"

"He hid under the kitchen table when you knocked, but then when you sat down, he came out and started sniffing around at your feet. You'd have to know my cat to know that he just doesn't do that with strangers. It's like he somehow knew that you were ok. I've studied enough about animal behavior to know that they can just… sense things that humans can't. I trusted my cat, as ridiculous as that sounds."

"So I have Leo to thank for the fact that you didn't turn me in? In that case, I'll put some extra food in his bowl tonight."

Bella laughs, like really laughs. She seems lighter, happier than the woman I've known for the last week. It's really good to see that. Maybe she's just lonely without her husband here, and I'm somehow helping her. She needs to learn to relax a little, have fun, let loose. Now_ those_ are things I can teach her.

"All this exercise is making me hungry," I announce after several laps. "Ready to go back in?"

Bella nods, starting back to the house.

"We still have some leftover lasagna," she says as she digs around in the fridge. "Probably not enough for dinner, but ok for lunch?"

I nod my agreement, watching as she puts the container in the microwave then gets our drinks. "I put a couple steaks in the fridge last night to thaw for dinner, ok?"

"Sure — do you have a grill?" I ask.

"Yeah, it's outside, through the mudroom. My dad got it to grill fish, of course."

"Your dad must love fishing," I note.

"Oh, he does. He used to go out practically every weekend with… with his best friend."

"Used to?"

"Um, yeah, they—they had a falling out a few years ago." Bella doesn't say anything more, but I get the feeling there's a lot more to that story.

When the microwave beeps, she fixes two plates and carries them to the table.

"This really is good lasagna," I compliment as we eat. "Where did you get the recipe?"

"One of my neighbors in Phoenix. She taught me to cook when I was eight or nine. I was at her house playing with her daughter, who was my best friend, and I told her how much better the food she made was than what my mother made at home," she laughs.

"It was really that bad?"

"Worse. My mother is kind of… creative in the kitchen."

After we wash the dishes, Bella and I get comfortable on the couch in the living room.

"So tell me about a five-year-old learning to cook."

I shrug. "It wasn't so much cooking then, but I could make a mean peanut butter and jelly sandwich," I chuckle. "Once I learned to read, I graduated to heating up canned pasta, or making boxes of Kraft macaroni and cheese, or Chef Boyardee spaghetti."

"Where did you _really_ learn though?" she asks curiously.

"My first job was as a fry cook at Jack in the Box."

"Ooh, the top of the food chain there."

"Yeah, yeah… I was 16 and they were hiring," I respond with a grin. It wasn't _that_ bad.

"So… how did the adopted son of a doctor end up working at Jack in the Box? Was your father trying to instill some kind of values in you that he thought you needed to work?"

"Not… exactly." Fuck, I really don't want to get into this with her. I don't want Bella to think badly of me. I'm sure she's never been in trouble a day in her life.

"How then?"

"I… did a lot of stupid things as a teenager," I admit. "I was arrested a few times, had a bit of a juvie record."

"That would've gotten sealed when you turned 18, right?"

"Yeah," I nod. "The worst thing I ever did was steal a car with some friends and go joyriding."

"Why would you do that? Did you not have a car?"

"I didn't — I was only 15 at the time. Some of my friends had cars though, sure. Not fast ones though. And we were bored.

"Anyway, most of the charges were for possession. My dad cut off my allowance, saying he didn't want his money going to buy drugs. So I got a job." I remember how pissed he was that his plan backfired.

"How long did you work at Jack in the Box?" Bella asks.

"Couple years. I turned 18 in June, a few weeks after my high school graduation. My dad sat me down then and told me how I was an adult now, how anything I did would be on my permanent record, blah blah. When he caught me with some weed in my room the next week, he freaked out and kicked me out of the house until I gave it up." Just thinking about it is pissing me off.

"Your dad kicked you out?" she repeats.

"Yeah. I moved in with a buddy who was looking for a roommate. But I pretty quickly realized I needed to earn more than minimum wage, so I found a better paying job at a sandwich shop."

Bella suddenly bursts out laughing, and I have no idea what is so funny to her. "What?"

"I can just picture your smiling face asking me what I want on my turkey sub," she giggles.

"I didn't make the subs," I explain, rolling my eyes. "I worked in the back as a prep cook and baking the bread."

"That's more like it," she replies, still giggling. Fuck, why _couldn't_ I have worked out front? I can be charming when I want to be.

"My mom used to slip me extra money, too, which was awesome. She wasn't so much in agreement with my dad's 'tough love' stance."

"Will you tell me now why you robbed the liquor store?"

I sigh before nodding. "After a year or so, I got fired from the sub shop. I'd had a couple warnings already for arriving late due to a hangover… and then I showed up drunk one day. My own fault, I know — you don't have to say it. I needed money for rent, but I didn't want to go to my mom and tell her that I'd gotten fired, so I robbed the store."

"Because of your pride?" she scoffs.

"Yeah, I guess." I know there was a little more to it than that, but it's nothing I'm ready to discuss with her yet. "I was horribly inept as a thief," I continue. "I didn't case out the store in advance, so I didn't know they had a security camera or a silent alarm system.

"It was ridiculously easy to rob them though. I brought a gun, but I kept it in the pocket of my jacket. It wasn't loaded anyway. They just… gave me the money when I asked, and I ran out."

"Where did you get the gun?" she asks.

"Believe it or not, my mom helped me get it the previous Christmas. It was legal and everything. She got freaked out by all the stories of assaults and burglaries in my neighborhood and thought I needed it for protection.

"Anyway, I was a couple blocks from the store when I heard sirens. I was too cocky to really believe they'd stop me, but just in case, I threw the gun in a dumpster. But they did stop me. Someone had pressed the silent alarm and the police showed up almost as soon as I left. The store clerk had given them my description. And the security video pretty much proved it was me."

"What did your parents say?"

"They were furious… Mom cried." I close my eyes for a moment, remembering. I hate how much I hurt her. "But they got me a lawyer — a good one, too. I was charged with armed robbery, but given that no one saw the gun and the cops couldn't find it, I was convicted of a lesser charge."

"I thought you _could_ go down for armed robbery for just the hint of a gun, at least if you rob a bank," Bella says.

"Maybe," I reply with a shrug. "But my lawyer worked his magic. I was sentenced to 7-10 years, but I got out after just over three years due to good behavior and overcrowding."

"What happened when you got out? Was it hard to find another job with a felony conviction on your record?"

"Not as hard as I expected," I shrug. "A buddy of mine washed dishes at his parents' Italian restaurant and they hired me as a line cook."

"So _that's_ how you're qualified to judge the quality of my lasagna," she laughs.

"Yep, that's how," I smile. "I really learned a lot about cooking in the time that I worked there."

"Did they fire you after you were arrested?"

"No — my friend's parents believed in my innocence. I worked in the back, in the kitchen, so none of the customers saw me. I probably would've been fired if I waited tables or something."

"Yeah, probably," she agrees, chuckling when I can't stop a huge yawn. "Tired?"

"Yeah, I didn't sleep all that well last night."

"Do you want to take a nap? I can just go to my room and read so you can have the couch," she offers.

"You don't mind?"

"No, no, it's fine. I told you I used to read a lot before you showed up."

"Ok," I nod. "I'll get the steaks ready about six o'clock, all right? Unless I oversleep."

"Sounds good," Bella replies, standing up. Leo jumps down from his place on the coffee table and follows her into the bedroom. With a sigh, I grab my pillow and blanket from the chair and lie back on the couch.

I can't believe I told Bella so much about my past; I never fucking talking about it. I know I mostly only told her about what happened after my adoption, but if she asks about anything from _before_, I doubt I'd refuse to tell her. I want her to know me, which is just fucking weird. I usually don't care about getting close to people. I mean, I have buddies, but we don't talk about shit like that — _feelings_.

Bella still isn't giving me much about her life, though. I need to get her to let her guard down a bit, open up to me. I want to understand what she's doing here in the middle of fucking nowhere, "taking a break" from her life back in Seattle. Suddenly, an idea comes to me — I know how to get Bella to loosen up. With a plan in mind, I drift off to sleep.

When I wake up, it must be late afternoon. I head out to the kitchen, checking again at what Bella has in her pantry and fridge. I want to try to make the restaurant's marinade for steaks, but I'm sure she's missing a few of the ingredients. I find a couple potatoes, so I decide to pop those in the oven and bake them as a side dish.

After I mix up the marinade, I let the steaks soak it up for a while before taking them out back to the grill. It's a crime to cook steaks higher than medium, so I hope she's happy with the way I'm preparing them. I look around for fresh vegetables, but all I can find are fucking _cans_ of green beans.

When dinner is ready, I knock on Bella's bedroom door. A minute or so later, she makes her way to the kitchen. "Are you ok?" I ask as she takes her seat at the table. "Your face is kinda flushed."

"It—it's nothing," she stammers. Uh-huh, that means it's something, I just have no idea what. If this was anyone but Pollyanna, I'd think she was in there jilling off. But I didn't hear any buzzing. Or moaning.

"The steak looks great," she says.

"I hope you like it… I tried to copy the marinade we used at the restaurant, but I didn't quite have all of the ingredients," I tell her nervously. I really want her to like this.

"This is delicious, Edward," she moans after taking a bite. "And you made side dishes, too," she adds in wonder.

"Yeah, I found your potatoes. You're going to have to buy real vegetables this week though… no more of that canned shit."

"You're pretty bossy for a houseguest," she says, eyes narrowed. I shrug; it's for her own good, too.

"Have you ever thought about going to culinary school?" she asks a bit later.

"I don't know… it's pretty expensive, isn't it? There was no way for me to afford it." Not to mention that I was a terrible student and fucking hated school.

"You don't think your parents would pay for it, if you were showing initiative toward a real career?"

I shrug. "My mom would, I guess, if I asked."

After we take care of the dishes, it's time to put my plan for tonight into action — Operation: Loosen Up Bella. "Where's your iPod?" I ask as we return to the living room.

"In my bedroom, why?"

"Go get it."

"Again with the bossiness," she grumbles as she goes to retrieve it.

I plug the device into her iHome and flip through her playlist. Not bad, not bad at all.

"You made me watch that singing competition the last two nights," I begin. "Let's listen to some _real_ artists. It's time to have some fun. Pretty much every weekend I go out to clubs or bars, listening to music, dancing…"

"Picking up women?"

"Well, that too," I grin. "Come on, dance with me!"

"Oh, no, I—I couldn't. I can't dance."

"Of course you can. Everyone can dance," I insist, starting to move my hips to the beat.

"I can't, Edward! When I was growing up, I was so clumsy that I used to trip over thin air. I didn't even dance at my… at my own wedding."

My eyes widen at her admission — Bella almost never mentions her husband on her own.

"Well, it's about time you learned then," I declare. I grab her hand, pulling her small body close, her back to my chest. I wrap my arms around her, trying to show her how to move her hips. _Fuck_, it feels good to be holding a woman. _Control yourself, Cullen._

"That was good, Bella," I smile when the song ends. "But I know what you need." She has _got_ to loosen up a bit.

I head out to the kitchen, grabbing two bottles of beer from the fridge. "Here," I tell her, handing her one of the bottles. "It'll make you less self-conscious."

She looks like she wants to protest, but instead, Bella takes a small sip from the bottle, then sets it on the desk. After taking a drink of my own beer, I spin her into my arms, trying to show her another dance move.

For the next few hours, we dance, laugh and drink, sometimes singing along with the music on the iPod. It's not quite a noisy club, but it's by far the most fun I've had in weeks.

I try to spin Bella around and she stumbles a bit, leaning on me for support. "Are you drunk?" I laugh. "You're only on your third beer." I'm at least two bottles ahead of her but I'm barely feeling it. Bella just shrugs in response.

"It's good to see you smiling and laughing," I tell her. "You always seem so sad."

"You were right, Edward — this is fun. Oh! I love this song."

I grin at her drunkenness, pulling her close and making her move her hips in time with mine. This is exactly what I wanted for tonight. Pollyanna is actually a lot of fun with a bit of alcohol running through her veins.

"So if I was in a bar and you came in, would you even glance at me?" she asks suddenly.

"Of course I would. I glance at every woman when I walk into a bar." Duh.

"Trying to find your next conquest?"

"Exactly," I reply, spinning her around so that juicy round ass is rubbing against me. _Fuck, control your dick, Cullen._

"Would you… would you buy me a drink, or ask me to dance?"

"Bella," I growl. Why the hell is she asking this?

"I want to know," she insists, turning around so I'm forced to look her in the eye.

I sigh, shaking my head a little before deciding to just be honest with her. "No, I wouldn't have. You'd look far too innocent to get my attention." As attractive as she is, Bella wouldn't have been my type at all. But now, she's a warm female body and my dick couldn't care less how innocent she looks.

"I'm not who you think I am," she argues. "I'm not so innocent."

"Yes, you are."

"I'm _not_. You don't know the things I've done."

I laugh out loud. "Oh please, I bet the worst thing you've ever done is drive five miles over the speed limit." What the fuck could she have possibly done that was so bad? I grab my beer and take a long swig before setting it back down.

The next song is a slower song. Without thinking, I pull her close, wrapping my arms around her waist. I'm shocked when Bella throws her arms around my neck. She stares into my eyes for a few moments, then her eyes roam all over my face. Her eyes keep flicking to my lips like she's waiting for me to kiss her.

I know Bella is married, but fuck, she's looking at me like she wants me. Who am I to deny her? But I know if I move too quickly, I'll scare her away. I have to do this just right.

Very slowly, I move toward her, until my lips are just an inch away from hers. Bella parts her lips slightly, licking them, and I know for sure that this is what she wants.

I gently brush my lips against hers, touching her for less than a second before I pull back slightly. She isn't running yet, so I move in again, pulling her top lip in between mine and sucking gently before pulling back again. I repeat my moves a few more times before she tentatively begins kissing me back, reaching out with her tongue to just touch my bottom lip.

I touch my tongue to hers and I feel her shudder — or is that me? Six weeks is way too fucking long, and I can feel my dick starting to wake up. I want to devour her, but I know I need to treat her like a skittish animal.

Slowly my hands descend until they're cupping that amazing ass, pulling her close until I can rub my hard-on against her hip. She gasps and I deepen our kiss a bit, trying so fucking hard to keep it soft and gentle. God, I want her so much. I reach my right hand up to cup her cheek, turning her head slightly so that I can deepen the kiss even more.

Suddenly, Bella untangles her arms from around my neck, pushing on my chest until I back away. Goddamnit, I pushed a little too far. I watch her tears start to fall and I feel like shit.

"I'm sorry," she whispers, "I can't do this. I have to… I have to go…"

She dashes away from me, picking up her purse from on top of the desk and rushing out the front door.

"Bella, wait!" I call, but she doesn't stop running. Soon I hear the roar of the piece-of-shit truck starting up. Is she fucking _leaving_? Miss I-Don't-Drive is going to drive away? Fuck! What if she's so pissed at me for kissing her that she's going to turn me in?

I close the door and finish my beer, then go sit on the couch, holding my head in my hands as I want to kick my own ass for pushing things too far. Bella is fucking married and she's not going to cheat on her husband, wherever the fuck he is. Still, I know how she was looking at me. I've seen that look on the face of countless women over the last 10 years. I know that look; maybe it's only her body that wants me, but she _did_ want it.

I'm startled when Leo jumps up on the couch, cocking his head as he stares at me. "I don't know where your mama is, bud," I tell him, reaching out to pet his soft fur. "What is up with her, huh? Where's your daddy?"

I sit there with the cat for God knows how long before I hear the front door. I pop up from the couch, staring at Bella. She's never looked so small to me before. She looks like shit, like she's been crying the entire time she's been gone.

"Jesus Christ, where have you been? I was so worried about you." I take a step toward her but she holds up her hand.

"Don't touch me," she croaks. "Just… don't."

Bella disappears into her bedroom, coming out with a pair of pajamas. I hear her turn the shower on in the bathroom and sit back down on the couch. I really fucked up this time, and I have no idea how to fix things. I don't turn around when I finally hear the bathroom door open, afraid of the look on her face. Leo jumps off the couch, following her into the bedroom just before I hear the door close.

_Good job, Cullen_, I think as I get ready for bed.

* * *

**A/N: **There's the self-loathing canon Edward we all know and love!

Check out my profile if you haven't lately. Moosals has been making me book covers (and banners for Fiction Pad), so it's all decked out and colorful now. :)


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Note: **Thanks again to moosals for pre-reading. Stephenie Meyer owns all characters. Also special thanks to edwardisaputz for pre-reading from the male perspective!

* * *

_Thursday, September 20, 2012_

When I open my eyes, the house is quiet. Bella's bedroom door is closed and there's no sign of the cat. Fuck, last night really did happen.

After a quick shower, I toast a couple pieces of bread for my breakfast, then decide to go take a walk around the lake for some fresh air. It's raining outside, but it seems pretty light for now, so I just put on my hoodie and grab Bella's dad's fishing hat. I find her keys in her purse so I can lock up while I'm outside.

I notice The Beast on my way to the lake, and for just a moment, it crosses my mind that I can take the truck and leave. I may have messed up everything with Bella; she might kick me out when she wakes up. At least if I take the truck, I'll have some kind of transportation. Of course, I still have no gas money, unless I steal what's in Bella's purse, but I can't do that to her.

And… I don't want to leave Bella. I'm sure she's feeling like she cheated on her husband by kissing me last night, but I can't shake the feeling that there's something else — something I'm missing. She was really upset last night, and of course, I've seen her have more than one sort of panic attack. I want to… help her, as odd as that sounds. It's not a sentiment I've ever had before.

For three laps around the lake, I manage to keep myself from remembering our kiss last night. I don't want to think about it. It's not going to happen again, so there's no point in dwelling on it. There's no point in remembering how good her lips felt, how good her body felt against mine… Fuck.

Eventually I get tired of walking, so I head back for the house. Leo runs up to me as soon as I step inside, meowing loudly, but Bella is still MIA. I move to sit on the couch, but the cat runs back and forth between my feet, trying to trip me up. I finally get the hint that he wants breakfast.

After spooning a can of Salmon into his bowl, I take a seat on the couch and flip the TV on. I turn the volume low so I don't wake up Bella. After an hour or so, I start to get hungry. I'm just not feeling creative, so I check out the fridge. There's just a bit of deli meat left, but only two slices of bread. I feel bad about taking the rest of it, so I dig around in the freezer until I find a frozen meal. Ugh, I fucking hate those things, but she clearly needs to go grocery shopping tomorrow — my options are pretty fucking limited.

After my disgusting lunch, I return to the couch, mindlessly watching TV. It's nearly noon, and I'm starting to get worried about Bella. I get up to check on her, but her door is locked. I decide not to knock — for now.

A few minutes later, I'm startled by the sound of the bedroom door opening. My head whips around as Bella steps into the living room, but I'm afraid to speak to her. She quickly averts her eyes from mine, scurrying into the bathroom.

I wait impatiently for her to come out, dreading the conversation we need to have. I just don't want to upset her even more. Eventually she does open the door, but when I don't see her, I figure she must have gone into the kitchen. I wait a few more minutes, until I just can't take it anymore.

Turning off the TV, I follow Bella into the kitchen and find her sitting at the table eating a sandwich. _It's now or never, Cullen._

"I'm sorry," I say quietly from behind her. "I—I shouldn't have kissed you." When she doesn't reply, I press on. "Why are you so angry with me when you _wanted_ me to kiss you?" I ask, taking a seat on the other chair.

"I didn't… I didn't want that," she lies.

"Liar. You did want it. I saw the way you were looking at me."

"How was I looking at you?"

"Like you wanted me to kiss you!" I yell. Fuck, I need to control my temper so I don't piss her off even more.

"I was wrong," she whispers. "It was the alcohol." She averts her eyes, taking another bite of her sandwich.

"Where did you go last night?"

"Out to my truck. I tried to leave, but I—I couldn't, so I just sat there."

"Someday you're going to tell me why you won't drive."

"Maybe," she nods. "Not now."

I stay seated at the table until Bella finishes her lunch and washes the dishes. She re-takes her seat, looking totally uncomfortable as she asks me to come stand in front of her so she can check my stitches again, eventually determining that they can come out.

"Sorry this will hurt a bit," Bella warns when she returns with her first-aid kit. "I can't really numb the area like they might in a doctor's office. You've had stitches removed before, I assume?"

"Why would you assume that?"

"You know… you said something about bar fights."

"What if I always win them?" I grin. I actually never have gotten stitches from a fight, but I've had more than my fair share in my lifetime. "Of course I've had stitches before," I continue. "I can handle it, I'm a big boy."

"Turn around a little and let me do the back first. I only did a couple stitches back there."

I turn slightly for her, trying to look over my shoulder to see what she's doing back there. It doesn't hurt at all, even when she applies more of that stinging ointment. I guess that means it really must be healing.

"Ok, turn back around. Doing ok so far?"

"I'm fine," I nod.

The wound on my stomach is much larger and the process isn't quite as painless, but I try not to let Bella see that she's hurting me. It's the last time I'm letting her put that shit on me though.

"All done," she says, looking up at me. "Good as new."

"Thank you, Bella," I tell her sincerely. "I know I don't say that enough." I don't even want to think about what would've happened to me if anyone else had opened that door last week.

After Bella washes her hands in the kitchen sink, she heads into the living room. We're not done with our earlier talk, so I follow her, taking a seat next to her on the couch.

"Is it just guilt?" I ask, trying to start our conversation again.

"Guilt?" she asks.

"For betraying your husband. I mean, I don't think a kiss is really cheating, but some people do."

Bella nods, petting the cat in her lap.

"Why don't you ever talk about him?" I ask curiously. "I mean, I don't know much of anything about your husband." She shrugs, but doesn't reply. "Why don't you ever talk _to_ him? He doesn't call you. You don't Skype with him, or chat online. I've not heard you mention an e-mail from him." Still no response. "Maybe you _should_ cheat on him, since he doesn't seem to care about you very much if he won't keep in touch."

"Stop it!" she finally yells, pushing Leo off her lap and standing up. "You don't know what you're talking about!"

"You're right, I don't — because you won't tell me anything!" I yell in frustration. "If your husband loves you so much, he'd be here with you, or at least staying in touch."

"Jacob loved me! Don't you dare say he didn't," she cries.

"Wait, what? Loved?" I repeat. "Are you two no longer together?" Is _this_ why she's not worried that he's going to come home and find me here?

Bella sits back down, pulling her feet up onto the couch and burying her head in her knees. I hear her sniffle and realize she's crying again.

"Jacob is dead," she whispers brokenly, turning her head to face me.

_Oh fuck._

My eyes widen at her admission. That's the last thing I'd expected her to say. I just stare at her, having no idea at all what I'm supposed to say to that. She's still crying and just looks… fucking broken. All I can think of to do for her is brush her tears away, hoping like hell that she won't flinch at my touch.

"I'm so sorry, Bella," I whisper. "I had no idea. I thought — I thought he was in the military or something."

"I wish that's all it was."

"Why do you still have his clothes?" I ask bewilderedly. Why would someone keep all of their dead husband's clothes as a reminder that he's gone? It makes no sense.

"I couldn't… bear to get rid of them. I know he's not coming back — I'm not crazy."

"How did he die?" I ask quietly, stroking her face again.

"In a car accident," she whispers.

I lean my head back on the couch. Of fucking course — I should've guessed. "I see. A lot of things make more sense now, like the fact that you won't drive. Was he driving drunk? Is that why you don't drink?"

"No, Jacob didn't drive drunk."

"A drunk driver hit _him_ then?" I guess.

"No," she replies, shaking her head. "Alcohol didn't cause the accident."

"When did… when did he die?" I ask tentatively.

"It'll be three years in January," she answers, barely audible. "He died January 15, 2010. A part of me died that day, too."

"That's when you came here, isn't it? That's why you're hiding out in the middle of nowhere."

"I moved a few months later, but yes," she confirms.

"What are you doing, Bella? You're still young, but you're wasting your life because your husband died? I get that you loved him, I get that you were sad when he died, but this…" I stop, shaking my head. "It's such a waste."

"You don't understand," she says, starting to cry again. "You don't know what it's like to have everything you love taken away from you in an instant."

"I know what it's like to have my freedom taken away," I argue.

"Not the same thing, Edward," she insists. "No one understands how I feel. I couldn't deal with so many well-meaning people trying to make me feel better, so I left. I sold my car and my house and I left Seattle. I haven't been back since."

"You're wasting your life," I growl. How the fuck could she just give up on life like this?

"It's my life to waste!"

"Don't you get it? I'm doing everything in my power so that I can live, and you're not even _trying_ to live. And that really pisses me off."

"Maybe I don't deserve to!" she screams.

"That doesn't even make any sense," I respond, shaking my head. "Yeah, it sucks what happened to you, but you've got to get over it and _move on_."

"I… I…"

"A part of you wants to move on — that's why you wanted me to kiss you last night."

"God, you're smug."

I can't help laughing. "It's not my fault women want me," I say teasingly, trying to make her smile. "Come here, Bella," I encourage her, beckoning to her with my fingers.

She looks conflicted, but she scoots over until she's nearly touching me. I reach out, pulling her against me, then wrap my other arm around her and hug her tightly. She feels so good in my arms, and I can't resist stroking my hand through her long hair. I feel her tense up a little, but she doesn't try to move away. Seeing her like this… so lonely and broken, I just want to show her how to live again. Maybe I can help her the same way she's helped me — I just don't know how. Maybe I can show her how _I_ have fun?

"You need to start living again, Bella," I tell her quietly. "And I'm going to help you."

"How do you plan to do that?" she scoffs.

"Mrs. Cope is coming tomorrow morning to take you shopping, right?" At her nod, I continue, "When you get back, we're going out."

"We can't go out, Edward," she protests.

"Not around Aberdeen, maybe. We could go to a bigger city though, where we — I — can just blend in with the crowd."

"The nearest big city is Olympia, but that's like an hour away."

"Probably longer in your piece-of-shit truck," I snort. "It's perfect though, to go that far. And it's not Seattle, where everyone has seen my picture."

"Do you really think it's safe?" she asks.

"Well, you're probably right that I should cover my hair. Maybe you could get me a baseball cap to wear, instead of your dad's fishing hat?"

"You're a little crazy, you know that?" she says, lifting her head from my shoulder.

I grin at her. "You like me this way, don't you?"

"Who says I like you?"

I crack up at her plea of innocence — she likes me, all right. I must scare the cat, because he jumps down from the couch, scurrying away. "So you just want my body then?" I ask, trying to tease her.

"Ugh," she growls, shoving me away while I keep laughing. She picks up the remote control and turns on the TV, flipping through the channels until she finds some fucking chick movie.

I groan. "If you're gonna watch that chick movie, I get to watch the football game tonight."

"When does your brother's team play?"

"Next Monday night. They play the Seahawks, actually."

"I imagine you'll want to watch that."

"Yep," I reply with a grin. "And you can't deny that you're curious to see my brother."

"What position does he play?"

"Tight end. Do you know what that means?"

"I do… my—Jacob used to watch a lot of football."

"Will you tell me about him?" I ask quietly. I don't want to push, but damn it, I'm curious.

Bella nods. "Not right now… later tonight, maybe."

"After the football game," I suggest.

"Ok," she agrees, "After the game."

I motion for her to come closer again. She says no at first, but then she snuggles into my side, letting me hold her while we spend the next few hours watching a couple movies. I've never done something like this before, but… I like it. And Bella seems to need it.

Of course, eventually my body threatens to react to her closeness. I hated her girly shower products when I had to use them, but I like the way she smells. I don't mind the strawberries when it's her hair under my nose. My dick obviously didn't miss the fact that Bella isn't married after all. She's fair game, and he wants a piece of her. I remind him that she's not like other chicks — I can't push her or we'll end up with another disaster like last night.

At 5:30, I steal the remote control and flip the channel to the Thursday night football game.

"We should order pizza for dinner," I decide, given that she has no fucking food in the house. "Pizza just goes well with football. Please tell me you have someplace that delivers out here."

"Yeah, there are a few places. A couple local pizza joints, plus Domino's and Pizza Hut."

"Pizza Hut, I think… unless you want something else?"

"No, that's fine," she says, standing up. "Is sausage ok?"

"Whatever you want," I answer with a smile.

Bella places the order for a dinner box, then I hear her opening a can of cat food for Leo in the kitchen before she returns to sit with me on the couch. "Thanks for feeding Leo for me this morning," she says.

"No problem. He wouldn't stop meowing at me until I did it," I chuckle.

"Yeah, he's kind of needy in the mornings."

"It's a boy thing," I enlighten her.

"I woke up with a headache and went back to sleep," she explains. "I didn't see you when I came out of my bedroom?"

"I went for a walk around the lake."

"It was raining."

"Yeah, but not too hard — I took your dad's hat. I just needed some fresh air."

"I'm sorry for the way I ran out on you last night," she says quietly.

"You scared the shit out of me, you know? I heard the truck start and thought you left. I thought… maybe you were going to turn me in."

"I won't turn you in, Edward, no matter how angry I might get."

"Good to know," I grin.

When the pizza delivery guy knocks at the door, I hide in the bedroom while Bella answers the door and pays for our dinner. She sets up the box on the coffee table while I fetch our drinks from the kitchen.

"You brought beers?" she asks when I return.

"Beer goes well with pizza," I shrug.

"Maybe I should get a Pepsi instead," she argues.

"I doubt you'll be trying to rip my clothes off after only one beer." Though I wouldn't be opposed to that, of course.

Bella gives up with a long sigh, taking the beer. We watch the football game as we stuff ourselves on pizza, breadsticks and cinnamon sticks. Bella declines when I eventually get up for a second beer.

"Walmart sells beer, don't they?" I ask.

"I think so, yeah."

"Good — get some more tomorrow. There are only three bottles left."

She narrows her eyes and I laugh. "Yeah, I'm bossy." She raises one eyebrow and continues to stare at me until I finally add a quiet, "Please." Jesus Christ, she's worse than my mother.

During halftime, I get up from the couch, grabbing a pad of paper from the desk.

"What are you doing?" Bella asks.

"Making up a list for your grocery shopping tomorrow. I have some ideas for meals to cook." I'm not eating another fucking frozen meal.

When the game is over, I turn off the TV and turn to Bella. No more stalling. "Will you tell me about your husband now?

"What do you want to know?"

"Just… whatever you want to tell me. What did he look like?" I ask, figuring that's as good a place as any to start.

Bella stands up and walks into her bedroom. She returns carrying what looks like a photo album, setting it on my lap and sitting down beside me. "My wedding album," she whispers. "You go ahead… I don't think I can look." She pulls her feet up, burying her face between her knees again.

As I flip through the pages, I'm struck by how different Bella looks. Sure, she's got her hair up and is wearing make-up, but it's so much more than that. She's smiling and just… fucking glowing. I can't imagine the Bella I know ever looking like that. Not that she's not attractive now, but she was beautiful then — really fucking beautiful.

"You looked beautiful, Bella," I tell her, breaking the tense silence. "You looked so happy, smiling… there was this light in your eyes. It makes me sad that the light is gone."

"I told you a piece of me died that day along with my husband."

"I'm making it my mission to see that light again." It's a crime for someone as beautiful and as… good as she is to be so sad.

"Your mission should be to prove your innocence," she counters.

"Ok, fine, that's my first priority and you're my second."

I continue flipping through the album, looking at the pictures of just the bride and groom, the entire wedding party, just Bella in her long white dress. She looks quite a bit younger than she does now, and not quite so thin. "When was your wedding?" I ask.

"August 7, 2006." Hmm… six years ago.

"Who's the midget bridesmaid?" I chuckle.

"That's my friend Alice. She's not a midget — she's about five-foot tall."

"Alice that called a few days ago?"

"Yeah."

I flip the page to a photo of Bella with a middle-aged man and woman. The man has Bella's dark hair and eyes, and a moustache that just screams "cop" — this _must_ be her dad. The woman doesn't really look like Bella at all, and I wonder if this is her mom or her dad's girlfriend or something.

"Will you look at one photo? Jacob isn't in it." Bella peeks out at the page I show her. "Are these your parents with you?" She nods. "Your dad looks like a cop, like he'd shoot me on sight."

I study a photo of Bella and Jacob, wanting to ask her about him — that was the point of this, after all — but I'm a little afraid to begin, not wanting to upset her again. Maybe I'll start simple, ease her into it…

"Jacob looks really tall," I note.

"He was — six-foot-five." Fuck, that explains the freakishly long inseam in his jeans!

"Is he… Latino or something? His skin is so much darker than yours."

"No," she shakes her head. "Native American."

That's… unusual. "How did you meet him?"

Bella finally lifts her head, staring straight ahead. "Jacob grew up on the Quileute Indian reservation near Forks, a town called LaPush," she begins. "His dad, Billy Black, and my dad were best friends. Jacob and I used to make mud pies together when we were little.

"I was a junior in high school when my mom got remarried and I moved back to Forks to live with my dad. Jacob and I became best friends and then high school sweethearts. We both went to U-Dub then got married after seven years together." Fuck, they were together a long time; that explains some of her grief.

"What did Jacob do? For a living, I mean," I clarify.

"He was a lawyer."

"Really?" I ask. I've always found lawyers to be kind of… slimy. And I can't picture Bella with a slimy guy. Or a guy like me, for that matter.

"Corporate law," she explains, "Not criminal law." Well, that's a little better at least.

"We had a perfect life," she continues. "A nice house in the suburbs, two nice cars. Jacob was on the fast track to partner at his firm, and I worked at a small veterinary hospital with Alice's husband, Jasper.

"And then one night it was all gone," she whispers, tears starting to fall again.

_Fuck_ — as a rule, I can't deal with emotional women. Twice in one day is just… ugh.

I snap the photo album closed, set it on the coffee table, then pull Bella against me. I hold her while she cries, wishing I could take away her pain. Partially because I just don't like crying women, but also because she's a good person and I hate that she's still hurting so much when he's been dead for almost three years. She almost seems to be trying to burrow into my body, so I finally lift her until she's sitting sideways across my lap.

"There's more, isn't there?" I ask quietly. "Your grief is just… far beyond what's normal for someone who lost a spouse."

"Who are you to say what's normal?" she growls, punching at my shoulder.

"Relax… relax. I don't mean it in a bad way — I just think there's more to the story. But you don't have to tell me now."

"Thank you," she whispers, confirming that there _is_ more.

I hold her close, stroking her hair gently until she finally seems to relax. Being this close to Bella reminds me of how good she felt in my arms last night. I'm going to have to tread _very_ carefully, but I really want to know where our physical relationship stands now that I know she isn't actually married.

"Can we talk about last night, Bella?" I ask cautiously.

"There's nothing to talk about," she shrugs.

"You're a… you're a widow, so there's nothing wrong with you kissing another man. You don't have to feel guilty about it."

"I'm not," she protests.

"Yes, you _are_."

"It just feels like… Jacob lost his life, and I'm disrespecting him in some way if I move on."

"That's silly," I scoff. "You promised to love him until death do you part and all that. It's been almost three years; no one would blame you for moving on."

"_I_ blame me."

"Was that your first kiss since he died?" I ask curiously, though I think I already know the answer.

"Of course it was."

"I'm flattered," I chuckle.

"God, you're such an ass sometimes," she growls, punching me again and sitting up like she's getting ready to move away. I don't want her to move away. I really, really want to feel her lips on mine again.

I touch her face gently with my left hand. "Bella, can I kiss you again?"

As she stares at me, I begin tracing my index finger over her face, her lips. Kissing has always been a means to an end to me — what I have to do to get a girl in my bed. That's not what I want — well, it is, but not right now — right now, I just want to show Bella that it's ok, that _I'm_ ok.

But Bella looks fucking terrified, and that's not what I want at all. "Shhhh…" I soothe, stroking her cheek again. "I see the panic in your eyes. I'm not asking for more… just a kiss, that's all."

She takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, her eyes closed. And then she nods.

Very, very slowly, I lean in and brush my lips against hers. I pull back, waiting for her to open her eyes. When she finally does, I can't help smiling at her. "Not so scary, right?" I grin.

She shakes her head. "I'm not afraid of you."

I grin wider, kissing her again. We continue to trade small kisses and… it's enough for me. Even with Bella on my lap, my dick remains asleep, thank God. I don't think that would go over well right now.

Suddenly, Leo jumps up onto Bella's lap, interrupting our kiss. "Did you want a kiss, too?" she laughs, hugging the troublemaking cat. Finally, she climbs off my lap, moving about a foot away. Damn cockblocking cat stole her from me.

"I'll be right back," I tell her, placing a kiss on top of her head. I head out to the kitchen and grab another beer, as long as Bella's too busy to kiss me.

As I sit back down, Bella narrows her eyes and I laugh. "Are you ever gonna tell me your problem with alcohol? You're not Mormon, are you?"

"No, I'm not Mormon. It's… it's irrational," she replies. "Please… I can't…"

"Ok," I smile, not wanting to push her any more for one night. I reach out to stroke her cheek again before grabbing the remote control. Bella smiles back, snuggling into my side again. And surprisingly, it's enough.

* * *

**A/N: **So Edward (and his favorite appendage) know Bella isn't married after all…

Voting opened on Saturday in the Friends to Lovers contest, running through December 13. One of the entries is mine. Go check them out and remember to vote for your favorite! :)

Search for author: FriendsToLoversContest.


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's Note: **Thanks again to moosals for pre-reading. Stephenie Meyer owns all characters. Also special thanks to edwardisaputz for pre-reading from the male perspective!

* * *

_Friday, September 21, 2012_

"Edward. Wake up, Edward." Someone is touching my shoulder, shaking me awake. Fuck, I don't want to get up yet! I open my eyes, blinking a few times until I focus on Bella standing over me.

"Did you need me to come warm you up in bed?" What else would she want so early?

"Ugh," she growls, shoving me kinda hard. "I need you to get up and get your things out of the living room. We have about 15 minutes before Mrs. Cope shows up, and she'll come to the front door to get me if I'm not outside fast enough."

I sit up slowly, stretching and popping my back from sleeping on that fucking couch again. Standing, I scratch absently at my stomach and then reach down to adjust my morning wood. "Gross," Bella gags, turning away from me. I can't help chuckling at her reaction — Bella was with her late husband long enough that she should be used to shit like that.

As I step into the bathroom, Bella calls out, "Don't shower now — you might not be out in time. Wait until I leave." Damn, she's so fucking paranoid. I will my dick to soften enough that I can piss, but end up having to brace my hand against the wall to piss at an odd angle.

After brushing my teeth, I head back out into the living room. "Did you want me to make breakfast?" I ask.

"I was planning to just grab a granola bar," she replies. "We've used up the eggs and milk, remember?"

"Oh yeah, can't even have cereal."

"You can eat it dry." Now _that_ is gross.

"Take what you need from your bag," she orders, handing me the two plastic bags filled with my clothes. "I need to hide this in the bedroom." I grab some clothes to wear today and stash them in the bathroom for after my shower.

"I put the grocery list in the side of your purse, ok?" I tell Bella as we eat a couple of granola bars at the kitchen table.

"All right," she nods. "I'll try to find everything."

"And a baseball cap for today, right?"

"You're still set on going to Olympia today?"

"Yeah, I told you I was gonna show you how to have fun."

Just then, there is a knock at the door.

"Quick," she whispers, "Go hide in the bathroom." I do as she says, listening as Bella opens the front door.

"Good morning, Mrs. Cope," I hear her say. "Let me just get my jacket and purse."

As soon as I hear the door close behind her, I turn on the water in the shower. Stepping inside, I reach for the soap Bella bought for me, then put it back, squeezing some of hers into my palm. I rub my hands together, then reach down and tug my erection a few times.

As I work my hand over my cock, I think back to a couple nights ago, dancing with Bella, holding her in my arms, kissing her. If she was any other woman, I'd have fucked her and moved on by now. But I really don't _want_ to move on, even though I know I probably should.

Fuck… this is the longest I've gone without sex since I got out of prison two years ago. Bella though… she hasn't had sex in over two and a half years. My dick is practically weeping at the thought of how tight she must be.

I come against the tile with a loud grunt, bracing myself with one hand as I slowly come down from my high. I wash up quickly — with my own soap — and step out of the shower.

When I open the bathroom door, the cat comes running up to me, meowing. I guess Bella hasn't fed him yet this morning, so I spoon some food into Leo's bowl before taking a seat at the computer.

I know roughly how to get to Olympia, but I bring up Googlemaps, looking for the area downtown that I remember visiting about 10 years ago. When I find the restaurant still there, I get directions and print them out.

It's probably smart for us to spend most of our time away from other people, maybe in dark places. I've got it — we could go see a movie. I can't find a real theater anywhere close to downtown, but there's an art house theater. Ugh. Bella will probably like it though.

I look for restaurant ideas for dinner, finding a place that specializes in microbrews. Now that is _my_ kind of fun. When I find a bar that sounds like my usual type of hangout, it hits me that either I'm going to have to stay sober enough to drive home, or we're going to have to spend the night in Olympia.

I'm not missing this chance to have a good time, so I look over the map of downtown again, trying to find a reasonably priced hotel. When I find one, I get directions for everything and print those out as well.

Bella isn't home yet and morning TV fucking sucks, so I try to find something else to occupy my time. I know I can't be outside when Bella gets home with Mrs. Cope, or I'd go for a walk or something. I head into the kitchen when the idea hits me to organize Bella's pantry a bit. I can't find shit in there, and if she buys everything on my grocery list, she'll need more room anyway.

"Edward?" I hear Bella's voice while I'm stacking all of her canned shit together on one shelf. "What are you doing?" she asks, setting a couple bags down on the counter.

"Organizing your pantry."

"Well, come help me carry all these bags in. Your damn beer is heavy."

Laughing, I follow her to the porch, picking up the three bags holding the beer. "You think this is enough?" I ask, peering inside.

"It's 18 bottles — that should be plenty for just you." I narrow my eyes; what the _fuck_ is her problem with alcohol if her husband wasn't killed in a drunk driving accident? Did she maybe have a drinking problem after the accident? If that's the case, I feel like a piece of shit for making her drink with me. But she would've said something, wouldn't she?

While I put Bella's new purchases in the pantry, she fills up the refrigerator and freezer. "Did you find everything on the list?" I ask.

"Yeah, I did, but I had to ask for help with a couple of them."

"Thanks for the beer," I tell her with a smile, placing a small kiss on the side of her mouth. Fuck, I won't analyze why I did that — I'm not affectionate.

"Um… you're welcome. Let me show you what else I got you." I follow Bella into the living room, where she pulls a baseball cap out of the bag, presenting it to me.

"Nice, Seahawks again."

"You didn't ask for these, but I thought you might get tired of the hoodie," she says, handing me two long-sleeved shirts.

"Oh, thanks. You didn't have to do this, Bella."

She shrugs. "So what have you been doing all morning?"

"You mean after my shower?" I ask with a grin. When Bella remains silent, I continue, "I fed Leo and then did some research."

"Research on what?"

"Olympia. I know exactly where we're going. Will Leo be ok if we don't come back tonight?"

"What!?"

"Well, I was planning on being far too toasted to drive tonight. Unless you plan on driving home."

As soon as the words are out of my mouth, Bella's knees buckle and she reaches out, holding the arm of the couch for support. She's breathing heavily, obviously having another one of her panic attacks. Fuck, what did I say?

I grasp her arms. "Bella? Are you all right?" When she doesn't answer, I lead her to take a seat on the couch.

Bella buries her head in her hands, trying to take deep, even breaths. I feel completely helpless; I don't know how to deal with fucking panic attacks. I try stroking my hand through her hair until finally she opens her eyes.

"Where did you go?" I ask, trying to find the answer hidden in her dark brown eyes.

"I can't drive us home," she replies shakily. Fuck, was that her problem — just the _thought_ of driving did this to her? I wonder briefly if Bella was in the car with Jacob when it crashed, but it must've been a pretty bad accident to kill him, and she seems to be physically fine.

"Ok," I tell her, dropping it so as not to upset her again. "Can we put out enough food to keep your cat happy until morning then?"

"Are you sure about this, Edward? Isn't it too dangerous?"

"Why would it be worse than being there during the day?" I question. "We'll be asleep in a hotel room, safe from anyone else seeing us."

"But there will be a record at the hotel that I'm there."

"Pay with cash if it bugs you so much, but I don't see why anyone should think it's strange that you're taking an overnight trip. People do that, you know."

Bella stares at me for a long moment, then nods slowly. I can't stop the grin that takes over my face; I am so up for a good time.

"Go pack an overnight bag then," I instruct giddily. "Let's get going! I know exactly where we're having lunch."

With a sigh, Bella stands up, walking into her bedroom. I take out one of the new shirts to wear today, then add the other one to the bag with the rest of my clothes. I head into the bathroom, adding my toothbrush and razor to the bag when Bella walks in, grabbing her shampoo out of the shower.

"You know they have shampoo in hotels," I tell her.

"I like my own brand," she replies with a shrug.

When she steps out of the bathroom, I pull my t-shirt off, tossing it into the bag. I pull the tag off the new shirt and shrug it over my head. I look in the mirror and notice that it fits really well, showing off a little definition in my chest.

As I join Bella in the kitchen, I hear her talking to the cat while she pets him. "Ok, Leo, this is for tonight. If you eat this now, you're going to starve until tomorrow morning."

"I don't think he understands you," I laugh. Never mind the fact that I've been talking to him, too.

"You never know," she replies. "He's pretty smart."

"Are you ready to go?" I ask impatiently.

Bella looks up at me, seeming startled by… the fact that I changed my shirt? "Um, yeah, I think so," she replies. "It's just, Leo has never been left alone overnight before. I haven't spent a night away from here since I moved in."

My eyes widen at her admission. "Well, it's about time then." Jesus Christ, this woman needs to get out of her house.

"Can you get me the gun?" I ask as Bells slides her arms into her coat. Not that I plan on shooting anyone, but it just makes me feel better to have some protection.

"The _gun_? You can't walk around Olympia with a gun. No, Edward — if it's that dangerous, we're not going."

Fuck, I can tell she's not going to give on this, so I nod my acceptance. I pick up her bag along with my own, stepping outside to wait for Bella to lock up. She hands me her keys and I unlock the truck, stowing our bags in the small area behind the seats.

"Do you know how to get there?" Bella asks.

"Sure. I printed out some directions to everything while you were gone," I reply, fiddling with the radio. "Does this thing work?"

"You're kidding, right? The radio hasn't worked in at least two decades. Besides, you need to pay attention to the roads. They're narrow and winding out here."

"You don't have panic attacks just from riding in cars, do you?" I ask, worried.

"Not… not anymore."

We spend most of the drive in silence, Bella staring out the window. I remember this road from the prison bus, but I'm trying not to think about that right now. We're going to have fun. After about 45 minutes, we reach the outskirts of Olympia as State Route 8 merges with the 101.

"Where are we going?" Bella asks curiously.

"Downtown. Have you been to Olympia before?"

"Just once. I, um, visited with Jacob once when he came to see the Washington Supreme Court."

"Well, I don't think I'm going to be setting foot inside a courthouse today," I snort.

"No, I imagine not."

"I was 13 or 14 when I stopped in Olympia with my parents," I explain. "We were driving down to Portland to see Mom's brother and his family. There was this little place right near the water, near the port, where we stopped for lunch. Dad is originally from Boston and he said this place had the best clam chowder he'd ever had outside of New England."

"So that's where you're taking me?"

"Yep," I smile, exiting I-5 toward downtown. The downtown streets are pretty busy for late morning on a Friday, as I navigate the fucking one-way streets heading north.

"Here we are," I announce, pulling into a parking lot close to the West Bay. I put on my new baseball cap before climbing out of the truck cab. We lock the doors then walk inside the restaurant, my hand on the small of Bella's back.

As I request a table for two, I notice the young female hostess eyeing me. She's not really my type, but this is the kind of reaction I'm used to from women. Relieved that I haven't lost it, I flirt with her as she leads us to a table by the windows.

"I wish it was warm enough that we could eat outside on the patio," I complain once the hostess steps away. Bella just glares at me, not replying.

"What?" I ask. "What's wrong?"

"It's rude," she growls.

"What is?"

"Flirting with her while you're here with me." Fuck me, she sounds jealous.

"Am I here _with you_? I thought we were just here together," I clarify, deciding to tease her a bit. "But if this is a _date_, then I won't flirt with any other women as long as you promise to hold up your end of the bargain later."

"What does that even mean?"

"You're pretty smart, Bella. You'll figure it out," I grin. God, it's fun to wind her up.

"Ugh — fine, flirt with whoever you want, I don't care," she grumbles.

A waiter comes to our table to take our drink orders and I don't miss the way his eyes seem drawn to Bella. He's practically drooling, for God's sake. "Now _that_ is rude," I complain when he walks away.

"What are you talking about?"

"He was looking at you like you're something to eat."

"He — no, he wasn't."

"Um, yes, he was." Is she that oblivious?

Bella narrows her eyes, then goes back to reading her menu. When the waiter returns with our drinks, she orders the clam and corn chowder trio, then I order the clam chowder and Alaskan lingcod sandwich.

"What do you have planned for after lunch?" Bella asks.

"You'll see," I grin, taking a sip of my beer.

The food is just as good as I remembered — maybe better. I wonder about finding a recipe for clam chowder.

"Can I get you anything else?" our waiter asks, returning when we're about halfway through with our meals.

"Another beer?" I order.

"Ed—" Bella starts, putting her hand on my arm and giving me a warning look.

"Um, just some more water, please," I amend reluctantly. "What's your problem?" I ask, turning to Bella once the waiter walks away.

"We still have to drive, don't we?"

"Yeah, but not far — it's about three blocks to the hotel," I reply. Fuck, she really has issues with drinking and driving. "I would've been fine, Bella," I assure her, stroking her cheek. I hate that she's so fucking paranoid, but I know something bad had to have caused this.

Once we're finished, she pays the bill with cash then heads outside with me. "Where to now?" she asks.

"There's a viewing tower just up here," I suggest, pointing toward the water. "You can watch ships coming into port."

After visiting the viewing tower, we start walking back to the car when Bella suddenly drags me to a farmers market.

"We probably can't buy anything that needs to be refrigerated, you know," I remind her. "I'm not sure if the room will have a fridge."

"I know, but we can look at the other stuff."

"I bet you were the type who liked to go to Pike Place Market up in Seattle." I hated that fucking touristy place.

"Yeah, I was," she confirms with a small smile.

The Olympia Farmers Market is huge and we spend over an hour walking around to all of the tables. I don't really mind shopping for food, but Bella spends a lot more time at the arts and crafts tables than the produce tables. And there are way too many fucking people around for me, though Bella seems to be having a great time. I guess the point of this trip was for _her_ to have fun.

"You're smiling," I note as we leave. "I don't see that very often. It almost makes the last hour worth it."

"Almost?" she says. I shrug rather than tell her that I'd rather stick hot pokers in my eyes than go through that again.

Bella adds her bags to the storage area then hops into the truck. I drive us the three blocks over to the Phoenix Inn Suites then stop out front. "Here ok?" I ask.

She nods, hopping out of the truck. "I'll ask if they have a room ready so we can leave our things here."

I watch Bella walk into the hotel, then I turn back around, relaxing in my seat. I have to admit that I was a bit concerned that someone here would have paid attention to the Seattle news, but the only person who has looked twice at me was the hostess as the restaurant — and she just thought I was hot. Still, I don't want to push my luck and continue to be around as many people as we were at the farmers market.

When Bella comes back, I park the car, then help her gather our bags. I try to keep my head down as we walk through the lobby in case there are security cameras. Bella opens the door to our room with the keycard and the first thing I notice as we walk inside is the bed situation.

"No king-sized bed?" I was kinda hoping for the chance to share a bed with Bella. Fuck, what am I saying? I don't share beds with women, not after we're done having sex anyway.

She shrugs. "This is what she gave me." Uh-huh, sure it is, Pollyanna.

Outside, I lead Bella the several blocks to the movie theater I saw online. "No blockbusters here, but it's the only theater I could find in the downtown area," I apologize.

"It's fine. I haven't seen a movie in ages."

Bella purchases tickets for some movie about a billionaire riding in a limo across Manhattan. Sounds fascinating. She leads us to a couple of seats about halfway back in the dark theater.

I know this isn't a _date_, but I can't actually remember the last time I saw a movie with a woman. Maybe back in high school? Of course, then it was just an excuse to sit in the back row and make out. Or… a bit more. I get the feeling that Bella won't appreciate it if I try anything though. She's not the type to go down on me in a public place, unfortunately.

"Did you like it?" Bella asks as we walk out. The movie was boring as all fuck, except for a bit of female nudity.

I shrug. "The lead actress was hot at least."

"Oh my God, is that all you think about? Women and beer?"

"You forgot weed," I grin while she shakes her head.

We wander back down toward the water and another viewing tower by the Capitol Lake Dam. "I think the courthouse is down there," she says, pointing toward the south.

"This is as close as I'm getting to the courthouse. You can go, if you want."

"No, no, that's ok."

Heading east from the tower, I lead us toward the Fish Tale Brewpub. It's been awhile since lunch and I'm fucking starved since Bella didn't buy any popcorn at the movie.

"I figured we could get dinner here and start out our night," I explain. "They're supposed to have some great microbrews. Too bad we've missed happy hour."

Once we're seated, I order a beer while she just gets another Diet Pepsi. "You are not drinking pop all night," I insist.

"We'll see," she replies quietly. "You know, you're lucky no one is asking for your ID."

I shrug. "That's why I didn't shave today. And being with an older woman probably helps," I add with a grin, laughing when she punches my arm. I like to see a little fire from Bella.

Bella orders fish tacos for dinner, while I decide to try their fish and chips.

"Are you planning to pace yourself?" she asks after I order a second beer.

"Nope," I answer. "Can she get the apple cider?" I ask our waitress, who nods.

"Edward," she whispers, once the waitress walks away.

"You're going to have fun tonight, Bella." I'll accept nothing less.

After a couple more drinks at the pub, we walk outside, where it's grown dark. "There's another bar with pool tables and live music just a couple blocks from the hotel," I tell her.

"This place looks like a total dive," she complains as we step inside the dark bar a few minutes later.

"Just the way I like 'em," I smile, stepping up to the bar. Once I've ordered each of us a beer, Bella reaches into her purse to pay for the drinks, pulling out a ten-dollar bill.

"Why don't you use a credit card?" I ask. "That way we can just start a tab."

"But—"

"It's not unusual for an adult to go to a bar, Bella."

With a sigh, she puts the cash back in her wallet and gives the bartender a credit card. When that's taken care of, I lead her to the pool tables in the back.

"I'm not very good at pool," she warns.

"I'll teach you."

Setting our beers down, I show Bella how to properly hold the pool cue, positioning her fingers until she's got it. Next, I wrap my arms around her from behind as I explain to her how to line up shots on the table. I have to remind my dick repeatedly not to get _too_ excited as Bella's ass keeps brushing up against me.

I'm a pretty good pool player, but nothing I try to teach actually gets through to her, and I win by a huge margin. I figure gloating won't go over well, so I just try to encourage Bella, telling her she'll do better next time.

She doesn't. As the night goes on, in fact, I think she gets even worse the more beer she drinks.

"Edward," she whines, "I'm awful at this, can't we do something else?"

Just then, the music stops and a man steps onto the stage, announcing the live band for the night. Grinning, I pull her away from the pool tables to a small dance floor.

"Dancing wasn't really what I had in mind," she complains.

"Hush, you did just fine at your house. Now let's see your moves in public."

Bella and I dance, having several more beers, throughout the band's two 60-minute sets. She actually is a lot of fun once she lets her guard down. As she speeds by the "buzzed" stage, her cheeks get rosy and she's smiling so much more. She's really fucking beautiful.

When the band leaves the stage, a DJ starts cranking out dance tunes with a pounding bass. I'm getting really fucking turned on as we dance. I tentatively grind against her, and when she doesn't complain, I keep doing it. Dry humping in a room full of people is probably the most I can hope for from her tonight, so I'm going to make the most of it.

When I start getting thirsty again, I drag Bella over to the bar, ordering us two more beers.

"You're so much more fun when you're drunk," I tell her, running the tips of my fingers underneath her sweater. "I wish you'd take this off." I love how her bare skin feels, but I want to see it. I want to know what she's hiding underneath those baggy clothes.

"I can't — I'm not wearing anything underneath."

"All the more reason to take it off," I grin.

"I think that's illegal," she replies, rolling her eyes.

"We could go back to the hotel then…" I suggest, watching closely for her reaction.

Bella looks away, grabbing one of the bottles that the bartender has just set on the bar top. "Let's close out the tab," I whisper into her ear. Fuck, I want to be alone with her, even if she won't let me have more than a few kisses.

Bella nods, calling out to the bartender. He rings up the bill on the credit card she'd left with him earlier and she signs the receipt, then leaves some bills on the bar top as his tip.

Once the check is taken care of, I lead her away from the bar and back to the dance floor, holding her as close as I can with a beer in one hand. When I finish it, I take her in both arms, leaning in close.

"Bella," I whisper. "Hand me your bottle." I want her to be able to put her arms around me, too.

When she hands me the half-empty bottle, I drink it up in one long chug, belching when I'm finished.

"You're such a pig."

I laugh, set the bottle down and pull her in close. "I needed both of your hands free," I explain.

"For—for what?" she stutters.

"So you can wrap them around me, silly girl."

"Wrap them…"

"Bella," I interrupt, "Shut up."

And then I'm kissing her. The moment my lips touch hers, I'm gone. I want to devour her. Her mouth opens, and my tongue finds a home inside. Fuck, she feels good against me. My dick is straining at the fly of my jeans, trying to get to her heat. I feel like I could rip her clothes off and fuck her right here on the dance floor, but some tiny part of my brain reminds me that Bella isn't my usual hook-up and she probably wouldn't go for that.

Reluctantly, I pull back from her lips. "Let's get out of here, Bella," I whisper.

* * *

**A/N: **I know, RFL readers all remember this cliffy. :)

Blame edwardisaputz for the details on how men pee with a boner.


	10. Chapter 10

**Author's Note: **Thanks again to moosals for pre-reading. Stephenie Meyer owns all characters. Also special thanks to edwardisaputz for pre-reading from the male perspective!

Now let's see if Edward finally gets some!

* * *

_Saturday, September 22, 2012_

_"Let's get out of here, Bella," I whisper._

I take Bella's small hand in mine possessively, leading her through the still-crowded bar. Once we're outside, I wrap one arm around her waist and cup the back of her head with my free hand, pulling her mouth to mine. Fuck, I just want to crawl inside her.

I pull away reluctantly; I need to get her alone first. "Come on," I urge, pulling her along the sidewalk. When we have to stop at a traffic light at the second intersection, I kiss her again, unable to stay away.

"Oh, thank God," I groan as we finally reach the hotel.

"Behave yourself in the lobby," she warns.

I laugh. "You think that'll keep them from knowing what I plan to do to you?" She's right though — we can't draw unnecessary attention to ourselves. As we walk through the hotel lobby, I keep my hand wrapped tightly around hers and my head down, staring at the floor.

When we reach the door to our room, Bella pulls the keycard out of her purse, struggling to get the light to turn green. "Hurry up," I whine impatiently. When she finally gets it, I propel her inside, closing the door behind us. I push Bella up against the closet doors, my arms forming a cage around her head while my tongue gets better acquainted with her mouth.

Bella shocks me by taking control a little, throwing her arms around my neck and pulling my head down. Without ever leaving her lips, I reach down to grasp that amazing ass for the first time, lifting her off the floor. She wraps her legs around my waist, and I buck my hips into her.

"God, yes," I moan, kissing along her jaw and neck as I thrust against her again and again. Very soon I need more — more skin, more friction — so I carry her over to the closest bed, placing her flat on her back.

I kneel above her, panting, as I throw the damn baseball cap to the side then slowly slip my hands under her sweater and begin pushing up. When I reach the bottom of her tits, she lifts her arms and I pull it over her head. Tossing it to the floor, I lean forward and re-claim her lips.

Trying not to freak her out, I slide my fingers along her bare stomach until I've reached her plain white bra. Fuck, I need to see her tits. I yank one of her bra cups down and pull her rosy pink nipple into my mouth. With my left hand, I massage her other breast, tweaking the nipple, before pulling that cup down too and switching sides.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, I have missed the feel of a woman! Needing to have her skin against mine, I tear my lips off of her and pull my shirt over my head. I come back to her mouth, reaching down with one hand to open my jeans. Her nipples are pebbled rubbing against my chest and it feels so fucking good.

"Want you," I mumble, opening the zipper on her jeans. I wait just a moment for Bella to stop me, and when she doesn't, I thrust my hand into her panties, finding her wet for me. Oh God, she wants this as much as I do. I don't think I've ever been this hard.

"Edward," she whispers.

"So wet," I moan. "The things I'm gonna do to you…"

"Edward, st—" My lips cover hers, as my finger dips inside her entrance. Oh fuck me, she is tight… I need to be inside her right the fuck now. Sitting up on my haunches, I start tugging her jeans down.

"Edward, we need to stop!" she yells. What the fuck?!

"You're fucking kidding me, right?" I exclaim, my hands stilling. How could she change her mind _now_?!

"We can't have sex, Edward! We don't — we don't have a condom."

"I'm clean, I swear to God," I tell her urgently. "I always use condoms, and I was tested for everything when I first went to prison."

"But, Edward — I'm not on any birth control. We can't do this."

Still kneeling between her legs, I stare down at Bella's flushed face. No birth control. Fuck, fuck, fuck!

Groaning, I throw myself onto my back next to her, one arm covering my eyes.

"I'm… I'm sorry, Edward," she says in a small voice. "I wasn't thinking when I let things get so far out of hand."

And all I can think is that my dick is going to fucking kill me if he doesn't get some relief.

"I could… I could still help you with that," she suggests, her hand reaching for my hard-as-a-rock cock.

"Are you kidding? I haven't had a handjob since I was 14."

Fuck, I immediately regret snapping at her. But my balls feel like they're going to explode right now. A hand, even a soft female one, is not what I need when I was imagining being inside her tight, wet heat. Now if she had offered her mouth… I probably would've accepted.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Bella lie back down, pulling her bra cups back in place. I feel bad for behaving like such a prick to her. It's not her fault. It's all my fucking fault. Of course Pollyanna with a husband who's been dead for almost three years wouldn't be on the Pill. Of fucking course.

If I'd been fucking thinking, I could've gotten a condom from the vending machine the last time I used the men's room back at the bar. Of course, I didn't imagine then that Pollyanna would be up for a night with me. And, I had no fucking money.

After a few minutes, my raging boner is not calming down, so I groan and sit up, swinging my legs off the bed. I'm never going to be able to sleep if I don't take care of this hard-on.

"Where are you going?" Bella asks quietly.

"To take a cold shower."

I slam the bathroom door shut, turning the dial in the shower to ice fucking cold. I stand under the spray shivering until I'm finally calm. Stepping out, I dry off, pulling my boxers back on.

When I come back out into the bedroom, Bella is lying curled up under the covers. I think about getting back into bed with her, but I'm not sure I won't end up molesting her in her sleep. Instead, I pull back the covers to the other bed and crawl inside.

* * *

When I wake up, Bella is still sleeping soundly in the other bed. I look at the clock and see it's nearly 10:30. A quick glance at the hotel info on the nightstand tells me that we've missed the continental breakfast. Fuck, she's gonna need some food to soak up the alcohol in her stomach.

I climb out of bed, pulling on some clothes, then brush my teeth. I might attract more attention by myself so I throw on the Seahawks hoodie over my t-shirt, pulling the hood up over my head. I track down Bella's purse where she dropped it by the door last night and take out her wallet. I notice for the first time her full name on her driver's license: Isabella Marie Black. I never knew her last name before.

I remove a twenty from her wallet, tucking it into the pocket of my jeans, then take the keycard from the side of her purse and head out into the hallway. I remember seeing someplace with "Bread" in the name on one of our walks yesterday, so hopefully they have something I can pick up for breakfast.

I easily find the bakery, feeling like I hit the jackpot with the selection of scones, croissants and the like. I choose a handful of items, thanking the cashier as I leave. While waiting for the stoplight on the mostly quiet street, I see the sign for a pharmacy about halfway down the block and an idea snaps into my head.

Stepping inside the pharmacy, I look up at the signs above the aisles until I find the "Family Planning" one. I pick up a box of extra-large Trojans, double checking that I have enough money left to buy them. Given how last night ended, I don't know what my chances are of getting Bella naked again, but just in case — I'm gonna be prepared this time.

When I get back to our room, I find Bella huddled on the floor, taking clothes out of her suitcase. She looks up at me quickly then averts her eyes.

"I thought you left me here," she whispers.

"What? Just stole your truck and took off?" She nods slowly.

"We missed the continental breakfast, so I found a bakery," I explain. "Go take your shower and we can eat, then get out of here. Checkout time is in about an hour."

Bella stands up, avoiding my eyes as she carries her clothes into the bathroom. I can't believe she really thinks I'd leave her stranded here. After all she's done for me, I would _never_ do something like that.

I set the bag of baked goods on top of the small round table, tucking the box of condoms into my plastic bag full of clothes. Needing to kill some time while she's in the shower, I carry Bella's purchases from the farmers market out to the car.

When I return to the room, I spread the baked goods out on the table and take a seat, waiting for Bella. When she finally comes out of the bathroom, she sits down across from me and picks up one of the sweet rolls.

"I took a twenty from your purse," I tell her. "That's it — you can count them if you don't believe me."

"I believe you," she whispers.

We finish eating in silence before she heads back into the bathroom and I hear the blow dryer turn on.

"Ready?" I ask when she emerges with her overnight bag. "I took the bags with the stuff from the farmers market out to the car already."

Bella nods, picking up the keycard from the table on her way out the door. I carry both of our bags, heading straight out to the truck while she checks out. When she climbs into the truck cab, I start up the vehicle and pull out of the hotel parking lot.

There is an awkward silence between us as we drive through the downtown streets, much quieter on a Saturday morning than they were when we arrived. I glance over at Bella and she looks fucking miserable — obviously hungover. She needs something greasy to help with that.

"Can you eat again?" I ask once we get out of downtown.

"It hasn't even been an hour since breakfast."

"I know, but you look pretty hungover. Greasy food is always good for a hangover — trust me."

"Um, ok."

I exit Highway 101 onto Black Lake Boulevard. "The sign said there's a mall up ahead — maybe they have something greasy."

I drive around the mall, passing by an Applebee's and Olive Garden before finally settling on a Red Robin.

"Edward, there's no way I can eat a huge burger right now," Bella complains as she climbs out of the truck cab.

"We can split one or something," I shrug.

Once we're seated, I order us each a root beer float then begin looking over the menu. "Do you like blue cheese?" I ask.

She nods, rubbing at her temple.

"Did you take something for that?" I ask, tucking her hair behind her ear. I feel kinda guilty for letting her drink so much.

"Yeah, I took two Advil before you came back."

"Could we get the bleu ribbon burger and towering onion rings?" I order when the waitress returns with our drinks.

"Why root beer floats?" she asks curiously, taking a sip.

"They make me feel better when I'm hungover."

"Why aren't you in agony like I am?" she complains.

"Because we didn't drink all that much, Bella. I can handle my alcohol."

Once our food arrives, I hand her an onion ring then cut the burger in half. "Eat that," I order. "I'm telling you the grease will help."

When she's unable to finish her half, I polish off the rest of the burger. I make her eat the last two onion rings though. After Bella pays the bill, we set off again for Aberdeen.

"Take a nap or something," I suggest, looking over at where Bella is leaning her head against the window. "You look exhausted."

"I don't think I could sleep while we're driving," she replies quietly.

About 50 minutes later, we finally make the turn-off from the Olympic Highway toward her house. I hand Bella the keys then grab all of our bags out of the truck.

"Hey there," she laughs as Leo accosts her the moment she steps through the front door, rubbing against her leg and meowing loudly. "Someone is hungry, huh?"

Bella takes her bags from the Olympia Farmers Market while I leave her overnight bag in her bedroom and toss mine on the chair in the living room. I take a seat on the couch, flipping the TV on to college football.

"Um, I'm gonna go lie down for a while," Bella says when she's done in the kitchen.

"Ok. Is it all right if I do laundry?"

"It's fine," she nods. "Do you know how?"

"Yes," I reply, my eyes narrowed. I've lived in my own fucking apartment much of the time since I turned 18. "I'll have dinner ready whenever you want to eat."

"Ugh, do not even mention food to me right now."

I chuckle while she walks into her bedroom, leaving the door open a crack.

At halftime, I get up, tossing my dirty clothes into the washer. I peek in on Bella and find her fast asleep, Leo curled up in a ball against her back. I guess he missed his mama.

When the first game is over, I move the wet clothes to the dryer, grab a bottle of water from the fridge and then hunt down some Advil from the medicine cabinet. I push the bedroom door and tiptoe inside, leaving the items on the nightstand. Bella's brow is furrowed — she looks miserable even in her sleep. I stroke my hands through her long hair, down her back, trying to comfort her somehow.

At halftime of the second game, I get up to retrieve my clothes and start making dinner. It's pretty fucking cold outside for September, so I decide to make a pot of chili. I dice up an onion then get the tomato sauce on the stove before browning some ground beef and spicy pork sausage. I stir everything together in a large pot, then let it simmer.

I'm sitting watching the end of the football game when Bella finally comes out of the bedroom, sitting down a couple feet away from me. "How can you watch that all day?" she asks.

"There really isn't anything else on TV on Saturdays," I shrug.

"What did you make for dinner? It smells good, whatever it is."

"Chili," I answer. "Perfect for a cold night, yeah?"

We sit in silence for a few minutes before Bella whispers, "I'm sorry. Please don't be angry."

"I'm not," I reply honestly. She looks up at me, a look of shock on her face. "Really, I'm not."

"You were angry last night."

"I was frustrated, with blue balls last night. I was angry with the situation — with myself. I wasn't angry with you though — I knew you were right."

"Why the hell didn't you tell me that last night? I couldn't sleep thinking you were angry with me." Fuck, now _she_ sounds angry with _me_.

"Sorry," I say sheepishly. "I was drunk, so I wasn't thinking."

Bella mutters something under her breath that sounds a lot like, "Not with the head on your shoulders." Fuck, did my Pollyanna make a dirty joke?

"What was that?" I ask with a smile.

"Why did you move to the other bed?"

I shrug again. "I didn't think I'd be able to keep my hands off you if we slept in the same bed."

"We shouldn't drink like that again," Bella states.

"Do you really think that was just alcohol last night?" I ask curiously.

"No, I don't," she whispers. Thank God.

Trying to make peace with her, I let my fingers crawl over her hand as I take it in mine, tugging her toward me. She comes willingly, scooting over and laying her head on my shoulder. I wrap my arms around her, hugging her tightly, then place a brief kiss on the top of her head.

"Are you ready for dinner?" I ask.

"Sure, yeah," she agrees, sitting up straight.

Bella follows me into the kitchen, pouring us each a drink while I ladle the chili into two bowls. I get some shredded cheese and sour cream out of the fridge, in case she wants some.

"Not too spicy, is it?" I ask as she swallows her first spoonful.

"No, it's fine."

"Where are the beans?" she asks after a couple more spoonfuls.

"There are no beans in championship chili," I explain. Duh.

"Oh."

"Do you miss them?"

"Not really," she shrugs. "This is good. What's your secret ingredient?"

"Dark chocolate," I answer.

"I don't taste any chocolate."

"It's not there for taste, more to weaken the effect of the chili powder without sacrificing the flavor."

"Then what am I tasting?"

"Maybe the barbecue sauce?" I suggest.

"Yeah," she agrees, "That must be it. Have you thought any more about going to culinary school when this is all over? You're so talented in the kitchen."

"Do you really think it'll ever be all over?"

"I do," she nods. "We — you — have to believe that your lawyer will get you a new trial."

After I put the leftover chili away in the fridge, Bella and I do the dishes then she adds a little more food to Leo's bowl.

"Can I try to talk to my mom again?" I ask as we walk back into the living room.

"Yeah, sure," she agrees, taking a seat on the couch and flipping the channel away from football.

I sit down at the PC, opening up the gchat program and logging in with my identity. Immediately my screen is flooded with a ton of messages from Mom.

"Oh my God," I exclaim. "Mom sent like a dozen messages last night."

"What did she say?" Bella asks, abandoning the TV and grabbing a chair from the kitchen to join me at the PC.

"She says there's news about my case, but she didn't give any details. I'll try to message her back."

**Sunshine: mom?**

Her reply comes swiftly.

_DesignsByE: Edward, thank God! I was so worried when you didn't reply last night._

**Sunshine: sorry, not online, what's up?**

_DesignsByE: Angela Weber went to the police yesterday and changed her story. She told the truth, Edward._

I gasp, turning to look at Bella.

**Sunshine: so what does this mean?**

_DesignsByE: Not much yet, I'm afraid. The police don't believe her. They think with you on the loose, you were able to threaten her somehow and convince her to lie._

"Wow, they really think highly of you," Bella snorts.

"It's probably my sparkling personality."

_DesignsByE: Your lawyer is still working on getting a copy of the cell phone records for both you and Angela. Once he's got that, combined with her new story, we should be able to win a new trial. You just need to hang on a little while longer._

"Did Angela say why she lied?" Bella asks curiously.

**Sunshine: did Angela say why she did it?**

_DesignsByE: The detective I talked to didn't really provide any details, just that they'd taken a new statement from her and she admitted to being involved with you._

"I wonder if her conscience finally got the better of her," she muses.

_DesignsByE: Are you sure you're ok, Edward? Are you staying warm?_

**Sunshine: i'm plenty warm, mom, don't worry**

"It's cute how she worries about you," Bella chuckles, breaking into a full-blown laugh when I glare at her. I'm not a fucking mama's boy like her cat.

_DesignsByE: Please take care of yourself. And I hope you remember to thank whoever is helping you._

**Sunshine: i do have some manners**

_DesignsByE: I hear the garage door, Carlisle is home. I'll talk to you again soon, keep your chin up. I love you, Edward._

**Sunshine: love you too, mom**

"That's great, Edward," Bella says after I sign off the chat program. "You're one step closer. There's no need to contact Jessica now to ask for her help in convincing Angela to tell the truth."

"I can't believe the police don't believe her though," I snort. "I mean, I would expect them to still find a way to pin it on me even with the truth out there, but to think I somehow _threatened_ her?"

I shake my head, standing up. "I'm getting a beer — I imagine you don't want one."

"No, thank you."

As we take our seats on the couch, I let Bella take over the remote control until she finds some movie to watch. Leo jumps up to join us, taking over his mama's lap as he enjoys some attention. I'd really like to put my arm around Bella or something, but I'm just not sure how she'd react to that. I have no idea where our relationship stands right now.

Fuck — I don't have _relationships_.

The late night news comes on, with the top story being the possible record-breaking low temperatures tonight. Bella yawns then gets up and goes into her bedroom. She comes out in her pajamas then heads to the bathroom.

While she's in there, I decide to start making up my bed on the couch. I guess the pillow and blanket are still in Bella's bedroom, where she hid them yesterday morning before Mrs. Cope showed up. I find them on top of the trunk at the foot of her bed.

As I pick them up, I wonder if she has another spare blanket in the trunk, given the cold tonight. I lift up the lid, seeing her photo album on top of a large box on the right side of the trunk. On the left side, there's a small piece of printed fabric. I lift it up to see it's clothing for a baby — whatever those one-piece things are called. A gift for one of her friends?

I peer into the trunk again, finding a bib with the words 'I love my Mommy.' I pick up the bib and see a small black photo lying underneath it. I've seen one of these before, when my buddy Jared knocked up his girlfriend.

Why would Bella have a photo like this? A sick feeling starts to grow in the pit of my stomach. The baby clothes aren't a gift for someone else — they were for Bella's baby.

Bella's baby. She had a baby. But there's no sign of any child ever having been here. The sick feeling gets even stronger.

I'm startled when Bella steps into the bedroom. She looks over at me then immediately falls to her knees, burying her face in her hands and breathing heavily. Fuck!

"Bella!" I call out, trying to reach her, but I don't think she even knows I'm here.

"Bella, you need to calm down, baby." I tentatively reach out and touch her, holding her face in my hands. Her eyes are squeezed tightly shut and I don't know what to fucking do.

"Do you need some water? Will that help you?" She's practically hyperventilating now — I've got to try _something_. Standing up, I rush into the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge.

I dash back into the bedroom and touch the open bottle to her lips. "Take a sip." She does, but immediately starts choking. I set the bottle down on the floor, then try to soothe her. "It's ok, you're ok." I lean my forehead against hers, wondering what the fuck I can do to help her.

I don't know how to deal with something like this. She needs a fucking doctor, but that'll get both of us in a whole shitload of trouble. Could I try to contact my dad somehow? Would he be able to tell me what to do for her over the phone? Maybe I could try to call him at the hospital, if he's working tonight.

I hear Leo meow and see him standing next to Bella, looking up at her. It's almost like he knows that something's wrong and he's standing guard. Willing to try anything, I pick him up and place him in her arms. She squeezes him tightly and I can't hold back my laughter.

"Not so hard, you're going to squash him." She eases up a little but she's still breathing so heavily that I'm afraid she's going to pass out.

"Try to take another drink, ok?" I hold the bottle to her lips again and she manages to swallow some. Maybe it's just my imagination but her breathing seems to be slowing. I comb my fingers through her hair again and again as I keep trying to soothe her.

Finally her eyes blink open and they're filled with tears. I reach out, brushing her tears away with a small smile. "Are you all right?" I whisper.

She shakes her head. "Put it away — I can't look at it." Thank God she can at least speak now.

I quickly set the baby clothes back where I found them, closing the trunk lid. Leo jumps out of her arms, running out of the bedroom.

"What were you doing in there?" she asks through still-panting breaths.

"You'd set my blanket and pillow on top of the trunk. I was looking inside for another blanket, since it's supposed to get pretty cold tonight," I explain.

"You could've just started a fire in the fireplace."

"I didn't think of that," I reply sheepishly. "If I had, then I wouldn't know what else you're hiding," I add, my eyes narrowed.

"So, um, you had a baby." Bella just stares at me, her sad brown eyes pleading for something. "Where is your baby, Bella?" I ask gently.

"My son," she whispers.

"Ok, where is your son?"

"I think you already know. Please don't make me say it," she begs. Fuck.

I brush her hair back, tucking it behind her ear. "What was his name?" I ask quietly.

"His name?" she repeats, giving me a blank stare. "He… he didn't have one."

"What do you mean, he didn't have a name?"

Bella stares into my eyes, and I hear her breathing start to pick up again. "Don't, don't you do that again. Take another drink," I command, holding the water bottle to her lips. She takes a sip, squeezing her eyes shut again.

"Are you saying you… had a miscarriage?" I ask cautiously. She nods, her tears spilling over. I brush them away again, then lean in and kiss her softly as I try to comfort her.

"When?" I ask quietly when her eyes fly open. "I mean, before or after your husband died."

"S—same time," she croaks.

"Fuck, that's what you meant by losing everything you love in an instant?"

Bella nods, taking another long drink. When she finishes the bottle, I take it from her, setting it on top of the trunk.

"Come on," I direct, helping her to her feet. I lead her to the bed and pull the covers back for her. As she crawls under them, she looks like she's shivering.

"Will you be ok?" I ask.

She shakes her head. "Please."

"Please what?" I ask with a smile. Right now, I'd do anything for this sad, broken girl.

"I know you're not a cuddler, but please hold me until I fall asleep. I don't want to be alone."

"I'll make you a deal — I'll… cuddle with you," I bargain, "If you tell me everything tomorrow." I'd do it anyway, but I really want to know her story.

"Deal," she whispers.

I climb onto the bed behind her, then pull her back to my chest, spooning behind her from on top of the covers. "Go to sleep, Bella," I whisper, kissing gently just below her ear. I hold her against me, wishing I could take her pain away. She'll never know her son. I understand her pain more than she realizes, because I'll never know my mother.

I stay there until she seems to be sleeping soundly before getting up, trying not to disturb her. I'm afraid of Bella waking up during the night and being upset to find me in her bed. I grab the pillow and blanket, making my way to the fucking couch.

* * *

**A/N: **Well, the cat's out of the bag, or at least most of it! And yes, Edward really did take a cold shower lol!

Review and ask for it if you want Cheeky's chili recipe! It's actually my coworker's and won our work chili cook-off twice in a row, coming in second two other years. I'm going to make it this week for a potluck.


	11. Chapter 11

**Author's Note: **Thanks again to moosals for pre-reading. Stephenie Meyer owns all characters. Also special thanks to edwardisaputz for pre-reading from the male perspective!

Loved this insight into Edward in a review to the prior chapter: "He had so many opportunities to take the wrong path in this chapter and in every instance he choose the right path."

**Becca**: FF ate your email address, so try again to review logged in and I'll send along the recipe!

* * *

_Sunday, September 23, 2012_

"Ow!"

It feels like someone is stabbing my chest with several very sharp, very small knives. I open my eyes and realize it's the cat standing on me, his claws out. I carefully pull the claws out of my bare chest, pick him up and set him down on the floor. Leo immediately places his paws on the edge of the couch and jumps back up.

"Ok, ok," I mumble, sitting up and setting my feet on the floor. "I'm sorry, all right? I didn't know Bella was gonna squeeze you like that. You looked like you wanted to help!"

Leo cocks his head, looking at me, then licks my hand. I guess that means we're buds again.

I peek in the bedroom on my way to the bathroom, finding Bella still fast asleep. "Go in there and take care of her," I whisper to the cat.

After I shower and get dressed, I shove my blanket over into the corner of the couch and sit down, picking up the remote control from on top of the coffee table. It's not quite time for the early football games, but there's a pre-game show on.

I haven't been watching for long when the bedroom door opens. Bella stands in the doorway staring at me, looking so small and fragile.

"Did you sleep out here last night?" she asks, her voice hoarse.

"Yeah," I nod. "I wasn't so sure you'd remember asking me to stay in the morning."

"I need a shower. We can talk after, ok?"

I nod again. "Omelet for breakfast?"

"Sounds good."

When I hear the shower turn on, I jump up, heading into the kitchen to start cooking the bacon and dicing the tomato for our omelets.

"Almost ready," I call over my shoulder when I hear Bella's footsteps behind me. I hear her adding some food to Leo's bowl before taking a seat.

"Are you feeling ok?" I ask hesitantly, setting her plate down in front of her.

She nods slowly. "I think that was the worst attack I've had."

"Why did you hang on to the baby clothes if you were gonna react like that?" I ask curiously. I don't miss the way she winces.

"Same as Jacob's clothes — I couldn't bear to get rid of them." She shrugs, taking a small bite of her omelet.

"That's where your photo album was, right? How come you didn't freak when you got that out of the trunk for me?"

"I knew where it was," she explains. "I didn't look inside the trunk."

Bella doesn't look ready to talk about any more right now, so I wisely stop with the questions for the rest of our meal. "I'll take care of the dishes," I tell her when we're finished. "Go wait for me in the living room. And I think Leo wants you to apologize for almost squeezing him to death last night," I add with a chuckle. "I already told him I was sorry for handing him to you."

"Don't be. It really did help, like I had something holding me down to this earth. Sorry I can't explain it well."

After a few minutes, the dishes are washed and put away. I find Bella on the couch, petting the cat in her lap. I sit in my usual spot then motion for her to come closer. I hug her small body to my chest, rubbing up and down her arm to try and calm her.

"Just relax, Bella. Watch the game with me for a while. It's just starting."

"I thought you were watching football when I first woke up?" she asks, glancing up at me.

I shake my head. "Pre-game show."

I sit watching the game, holding Bella close and continuing to stroke her arms, hopefully relaxing her. At halftime, I stand up, stretching. "Should I heat up some chili for lunch?"

"Sure," she nods.

I nuke some chili in the microwave then ladle it into two bowls. The game is pretty close, so I eat quickly, trying to make it back to the living room by the third quarter kick off. Bella stays to handle the dishes before joining me, curling up against my side without me even having to ask this time.

When the game is over, I flip between a couple channels before turning off the TV. "I don't care about any of the games on right now," I shrug. "Are you… ready to talk?" I ask nervously. I'm almost afraid to hear her story, but I think she needs to tell it as much as I need to hear it.

"Not really."

"You promised," I remind her, though I feel like a bit of a dick for pushing her. I _really_ don't want to see her upset again, but sharing her story will be good for her in the end.

"I know. I'm just not sure I can get through it."

"Have you ever told anyone?"

"The whole story? No," she replies, shaking her head.

"How about if I just ask questions, will that be better?"

"We can try," she whispers.

I smile at her, placing a soft kiss on her lips. She looks like a kid who's gotten caught doing something bad by her parents. "That wasn't just a normal panic attack last night, right?" I begin carefully.

"No," Bella whispers, burying her face in my neck. "My dad says I have PTSD." I kind of figured it was something like that.

"Are you in therapy?"

I feel her shaking her head against my shoulder. "I saw a therapist a couple times right after the accident. My mom forced me into it."

"So… were you actually in the car with Jacob? Or did you… miscarry when you found out about his death?"

"I was in the car," she whispers.

"Were you hurt?" She glances up at me and I realize what a dumb question that was. "I mean, besides… yeah." Damn, I'm an ass.

She sits up, moving a little bit away from me. "I had a broken leg, four broken ribs and internal injuries," she explains. "I spent a week in the hospital, and over a month in a wheelchair. It hurt my ribs too much to use crutches."

Jesus… it strikes me for the first time that Bella could've died in the accident as well. What a horrible, scary thought — I almost lost her before I ever met her. _Fuck, where did that come from_? If she'd died, then I wouldn't have lost anything. At least I wouldn't _know_ that I did. But where would I be right now without her?

"How… um, how far along were you in your pregnancy?" I ask carefully. "Did you know for sure it was a boy?" The clothing I found last night wasn't blue, not obviously a boy's.

"Twenty weeks. We'd just found out the sex of the baby that day, at my ultrasound appointment. Jacob was so thrilled that he was going to have a son." I hear the tears in her voice and know I need to tread carefully.

"Will you tell me how the accident happened?" I ask quietly, stroking her hair. I watch her carefully, as she seems to psych herself up to tell me.

"We went out for dinner that night with Alice and her husband Jasper, to celebrate," Bella begins. "It wasn't unusual for us to split a couple bottles of wine at dinner. Of course, I couldn't drink. Jacob stumbled a bit when he stood up, and I remember thinking that he must've had my share of the wine."

"I thought you said he wasn't driving drunk?" I interrupt angrily. Did she lie to me about the cause of the accident?

"He didn't," she insists. "It was cold, icy, light sleet falling. I… I asked him to please let me drive," she whispers.

"Oh my God…" Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck.

Bella stares down at the floor, biting her lip as tears pool in her eyes. "We were almost home," she continues in a whisper. "I changed lanes to take the next exit from the interstate, and the tire slid on a patch of ice. I lost control and then… and then — and then the car behind us hit the passenger side of Jake's SUV as we slid sideways."

She's breathing heavily again, and I hurriedly pull her to me, trying to stop another panic attack.

"When I woke up in the hos—hospital," she sobs, "My parents told me that my husband and baby were gone. Dead."

"I'm so sorry, Bella," I whisper, pulling her onto my lap so I can hug her tightly. "I'm so sorry." I cradle her in my arms, rocking her back and forth.

"It—it's my fault," she sobs. "I killed them."

"What in the hell are you talking about?" I growl angrily. "You didn't kill them, for God's sake! What you just described to me was a horrible accident!"

"An accident that I caused!"

"An accident that the icy roads caused," I argue. "Absolutely no one could possibly blame you for that."

"Jacob's dad did. At the funeral, he told me it was all my fault."

"Then he's an asshole! And he was _wrong_, Bella. You did not kill them."

"You don't understand, Edward," she cries. "No one ever understands."

"That's because what you're saying is ridiculous."

"It's not."

"It _is_."

"My bad karma killed them!" she shouts.

"What the fuck? Why on earth would _you_ have bad karma? You do realize you're talking nonsense, don't you?" As if my Pollyanna could ever have bad karma. She shakes her head, and I want to strangle Jacob's father for ever putting this idea in her head.

I need a fucking drink. I lift Bella off my lap and stand, heading to the kitchen. I grab two beers then come back to the living room, handing one of them to her. "I need this to listen to any more of your ridiculous assertions," I snarl. "I don't care if it's still early."

"It's not ridiculous, Edward," she whispers.

"Explain."

Bella opens her bottle of beer, takes a sip and then stares at it. "I got… I got pregnant on purpose."

"So what? Couples plan pregnancies all the time," I reply. Don't they?

"I said _I_ did, not we. I went off my birth control without telling Jake." My eyes widen a little. I hadn't expected my Pollyanna to have done something dishonest, but I've done far worse myself, so I'm in no position to judge her.

"He didn't want kids?" I pry.

"He did… one day. After he made partner, he always said. But that was still years away."

"And you didn't want to wait," I assume. I can believe that she wanted to be a mom; Bella would make a great mom.

"I didn't want to wait five or more years, no. But the, um, exact timing wasn't so much because of my desire to be a mother. I wanted to keep Jake from having an affair."

"The guy was cheating on you?" I shout. Fuck, all this over a guy who was _cheating_?

"No, no — at least I don't think so. He denied it, but I saw the way his legal assistant acted with him, and she definitely wanted him. It was only a matter of time before he caved."

"So how was having a baby going to fix things?" I'm not following her logic here at all.

She takes a long sip of her beer before answering. "Jake's mom cheated on his dad and eventually left, when he was just a kid. He always said that he'd never do that to his own wife and child."

"So you thought that having a baby would mean he'd never cheat."

She nods. "I was dishonest, but… I thought the ends justified the means. Jake was happy about my pregnancy. Maybe not so much at first, but once he found out we were having a boy, you should've seen the silly grin on his face.

"But then karma decided to take both of them away from me."

I set my beer on the coffee table, then turn to Bella, taking her face in my hands. "Bella," I tell her sternly, "Karma did not do this to you. _You_ did not do this to you. It was an accident, simple as that. It wasn't your fault in any way."

"How can you touch me?" she whispers.

"What?"

"Now that you know how awful I am."

"Did you hear a word I just said? You are not an awful person, Bella."

"But I—"

"No buts," I interrupt. "You didn't kill them. End of story."

"It's not the end, Edward," she cries, shaking her head. "I can't just stop feeling like this because you tell me it's not true."

"Then you need to find a good therapist to help you. You can't go on like this, crushed by your own guilt. It's a shitty way to live, trust me."

"Trust you?"

_Fuck._ I squeeze my eyes closed, cursing my big mouth again. I fucking hate talking about this, but I know deep down that telling Bella my own story may be the only way to get through to her.

I slowly open my eyes, resolved that I have to do this. She won't judge me for it. She won't. "Trust me," I say again. "I know all about misplaced guilt."

I take a deep breath then stand up, turning around to face the couch. I reach behind me to grasp the back of my t-shirt and pull it over my head.

"This was my first tattoo," I say quietly, pointing at the butterfly tattooed over my heart, with my mother's initials and dates beneath it.

"Who was E.A.M.?" Bella asks.

"Elizabeth Ann Masen. My mother."

"She died the year you were born," she notes.

"She died the _day_ I was born."

Bella stares up at me, a look of shock on her face.

"Complications," I continue. "She had pre… pre-something."

"Preeclampsia?"

"Yeah, that's it," I nod. I can never remember the name. "For as far back as I can remember, I've known that I'm the one who killed my mother," I confess quietly.

"What?! That's ridiculous, Edward. You were just an innocent baby!"

I give her a pointed look.

"It's not the same thing," she mumbles. "I wasn't innocent."

"I was raised by my dad alone," I continue. "He was… sick."

"Sick? Like he had cancer or something?"

"No, mentally sick. He heard voices. The doctors said he was a paranoid schizophrenic. He was fine whenever he was taking his medication. When he wasn't… he pretty much forgot about me."

"Which is why you had to cook your own dinner," she speculates.

"Yeah," I nod, "Or else starve," I add bitterly. "I blamed myself for my dad's mental illness, too. I thought the stress of taking care of me had caused it."

"Edward…"

I take another deep breath, squeezing my eyes closed. Fuck, fuck, fuck… I hate talking about this. I hate remembering. But I have to… for her.

"When I was 11," I whisper, "My dad's voices told him to kill me." I hear Bella's gasp, but I don't open my eyes. "He came into my bedroom early one morning and stabbed me three times." Fuck, I can feel a traitor tear sliding down my face. I don't fucking cry.

When Bella doesn't respond, I open my eyes, watching her stare up at me. "How did… how did you survive?" she finally asks. "How did you get away?"

"I played dead," I shrug. "When he left, I crawled out the window. A neighbor found me."

"What happened to your dad?" she whispers.

"He was found not guilty by reason of insanity. Sentenced to a psychiatric hospital. One of the other inmates, residents… whatever they are… killed him about three years ago. When I was in prison."

"Oh Edward…"

"This was my second tattoo." I point to the tattoo of the devil on the right side of my torso, then step closer to the couch, taking Bella's hand and placing it over the ink. She brushes her fingers over it lightly, shuddering when she realizes she's touching my scars from the knife wounds.

"I got it to remind myself that the devil didn't win," I explain quietly.

She continues brushing her fingers over the tattoo as if in a trance. "How did you come to be adopted by the Cullens?" she asks.

"Carlisle was my doctor in the hospital."

"You lucked out with the adoptive parents," she says with a smile.

"Yeah. I did. But I never felt like I deserved that. I didn't deserve great parents. I didn't deserve to go to the best schools."

"Of course you did! You probably deserved it more than most people because of the way you'd suffered."

"I was bad, Bella. I felt like I was evil. I killed my mother, made my dad sick, made my dad want to kill me…"

"No, you didn't!" she yells.

"And one day I had a choice between 'fessing up to my mom that I'd been fired and needed help, or finding some other way to pay my rent… And I chose to rob a liquor store. Because I didn't think I was worth any more than that." It's still a battle to remind myself that I'm better than that.

"But you seem so… cool with it all now though. You understand your motivations, so you can stop feeling that way."

"Do you think I got this clarity on my own?" I ask angrily. "I had three years of mandatory therapy when I was in prison. It took two years for me to understand _why_ I made so many bad choices and to let go of the misplaced guilt that was holding me back.

"Once I got out of prison, I had a new attitude. I was going to do things on the straight and narrow, make better choices. Well, for the most part," I grin, thinking of the numerous women I've picked up in bars in the last two years.

"My point is — therapy helped me, Bella. And someone can help you, too. You can't keep living like this!"

I'm emotionally spent from remembering the worst day of my life, the years I tortured myself. I kneel in front of Bella, placing my hands on her thighs as I look up at her. "Please, please tell me you'll try to get yourself better. You deserve more than this half-life in the middle of nowhere. Nothing that happened to you is your fault, Bella. Jacob is dead, but _you_ are still alive."

She stares at me, and I notice for the first time that she's crying. Have I gotten through to her?

"Promise me, Bella," I insist, spreading her thighs so I can move closer to her. I take her hands in mine, rubbing my thumbs along her knuckles.

"I promise," she whispers. "I'll get help."

I can't stop my smile. If she really means that, then everything has been worth it.

"You think your mission is accomplished, don't you?" she jokes.

"Not yet," I smile, reaching in to grasp her face gently. I stare at her, waiting for her to take that last step, to show me she wants to live again.

"What are you waiting for?"

"You."

She licks her lips and my eyes are drawn to them. I've never wanted to kiss anyone so badly. As if she can read my mind, Bella leans forward, placing a soft, chaste kiss on my lips. Before she can pull away, I draw her bottom lip between mine.

Fuck, I feel like we've made some sort of emotional connection, and that's going to freak me out if I stop to think about it. I don't do emotional. But this, this physical connection, _that_ I do very well. And I want her so fucking bad right now.

Still kissing her, I grasp Bella around her waist, pulling her off the couch until she's kneeling in front of me. Goosebumps erupt when I feel her light touch on the bare skin of my chest and stomach. Even that night in the hotel room in Olympia, she had never really touched _me_.

"You're wearing too many clothes," I growl, pushing up at the bottom of her sweater. I need her naked.

She yanks her sweater back down. "Edward, we can't! Remember? No birth control."

Oh, how little faith you have in me, Pollyanna. "What if I told you we have condoms? Then could I take your clothes off?"

"But we don't!"

"What if we did?"

"Fine," she sighs. "_If_ we had condoms, I'd… let you finish what we started Friday night."

Oh hell yes, that's all I need to hear. I jump to my feet, walking over to the chair where I'd stashed my plastic bag full of clothes. I reach into the bag, pulling out the box of condoms and hiding it behind my back as I return to Bella, kneeling down in front of her again.

"Is this what you wanted?" I ask, holding the box out to her. I want to laugh when her mouth drops open in shock.

"Where did you get those?"

"I bought them," I shrug. "When I went to the bakery Saturday morning."

"Why didn't you tell me? What were you waiting for?"

"I was waiting for this to be your idea, Bella," I reply, drawing one finger down the middle of her chest and biting my lip. "Tell me what you want," I whisper.

"I want… to feel your hands all over me. I want to run my tongue over the lines of ink on your skin," she whispers, her fingers tracing the butterfly on my chest.

"Stand up," I growl, pulling her to her feet. She squeaks in surprise, laughing as I drag her to the bedroom.

"Sorry, Leo," I call out, slamming the door behind us. "I'm not into voyeurism."

"You're not?" Bella asks. "You'll have sex with a stranger in an alley, but you're squeamish about the cat watching us?"

"It was dark in the alley," I shrug. "And he has beady little eyes." And I was drunk that night.

I toss the box of condoms onto the bed, then pull Bella's lips to mine, kissing her deeply while I walk her backwards. My hands paw at her bare skin underneath her sweater. She sits when we reach the bed, crawling backwards until her head is lying on the pillow. I follow her onto the bed, kneeling over her thighs, gazing down at the way she's laid out before me.

"Take your sweater off," I demand. As soon as it's off, I bend over, undoing the button on her jeans and pulling the zipper down. Standing, I pull her jeans down her legs, then simply stand and stare at her nearly naked body. Fuck, _this_ is what she was hiding under her too-big clothes?

"I'm sure I don't exactly… measure up to what you're used to," she whispers, squirming.

My eyes snap up to hers. "What? Baby, you are not lacking in any way." Climbing back on top of her, I continue, "I'd much rather have real tits than fake triple Ds."

I yank her bra cup down, roughly sucking her nipple into my mouth to prove it to her. When she cries out, I snake my right hand under her back and snap her bra open. I reluctantly remove my mouth just long enough to pull off her bra before taking her other nipple in my mouth.

"Does that feel good, baby?" I ask, noticing her flushed face and the desire in her eyes.

"Yes," she moans.

"I really like these," I grin, squeezing one of her boobs in each hand and pulling at her nipples until they're pebbled. No, they're not huge, but she's so responsive to me — biggest fucking turn-on.

I place a quick kiss on her lips before rolling off of her and removing my own jeans. When I look back at Bella, her eyes are wide and she's staring at the bulge in my boxers. I can't help laughing at her reaction.

"Maybe you should save the shock and awe until I remove the boxers." My eyes narrow when a thought suddenly pops into my head — not that I'd have fucking minded. "Unless you snuck a peek when I was passed out in your bed."

"What?" she exclaims. "No! No, of course I didn't. I only…"

"You only what?" She's protesting a bit too much.

"I only looked at your tattoos. I wasn't interested in… what was in your boxers."

"And now you are?" I grin, pulling a condom from the box.

She licks her lips and I laugh again at how obvious she is. I roll on top of her and press my hard-on into her hip, making her gasp.

"Bella," I say in a teasing voice.

"Y—yes?"

"Are you going to take your panties off, or should I?" I tease her with my little finger, dipping it in and out of the waistband.

"You can do it," she whispers.

Grinning, I roll off of her again, kneeling down by her calves as I grasp the sides of her panties and begin pulling them down. I toss them to the floor, then stroke my fingers along her pussy. Fuck me, she's so fucking wet.

"Fuck, Bella, you really do want this," I groan, stroking her slowly. I push one finger inside her and feel just how fucking tight she is.

"Tell me you have toys or something." She can't possibly have gone without any form of sex since her husband's death.

"Um… no."

Oh fuck yeah, I need inside her _now_.

I remove my hand, yanking my boxers down and throwing them aside. I stroke myself a couple times to relieve some of the ache, then rip open the foil packet with my teeth. Bella watches me carefully as I sheath myself in the condom.

"Kiss me, Bella," I whisper, rolling back on top of her. She leans up to kiss me and I can't help smiling down at her. "Do you want me to go slow?" I really don't fucking want to, but I'll do anything to get inside her.

"No."

"No?" I ask in surprise.

"I didn't think you'd know how to do slow."

I laugh loudly. "You want the full Edward Cullen special, huh?" I grasp my cock, rubbing it along her pussy as I coat the condom in her wetness. "Ready or not…" In one long, hard thrust I'm inside her, and I quite nearly lose it.

"Oh my God," she squeals.

I groan loudly. "Holy fuck, you're as tight as a virgin. Hang on, baby."

When I think I'm under control, I pull almost all the way out before slamming back in. Bella wraps her arms tightly around my shoulders as she leans up to kiss me. She scratches her nails up and down my back and it feels so fucking good. I know I am going to come way, way too soon.

I tear my mouth away from her lips, moving to her neck, to her collarbone and finally to her tits. My hands brush up and down her sides, coming around to grasp her ass as I continue to fuck her.

Bella wraps her legs tightly around me and oh God, I'm this close to needing to recite baseball stats.

"Fuck, you feel good," I moan. "Best pussy I've had in ages."

She slaps at my shoulder and I laugh through my heavy breathing. "It's a good thing, baby," I assure her.

"I still think you're an ass," she pants.

"I'm an ass who's about to make you scream though," I growl, grinding my pubic bone against her clit on my next thrust.

"Ahhhh…" She throws her head back, tugging hard on my hair when I laugh at her for proving me right. Yeah, baby, I can make you do anything I want.

I suck hard on her right nipple, then bite it gently, before switching to the other side. My thrusts are becoming more and more erratic as I try to hold off on my orgasm. I need to make her come first to have any shot at a repeat performance.

I put my hand under her lower back, pushing up so that her hips are tilted just right for me to hit her clit on every thrust. "God… Edward…" she moans and her pleasure is fucking turning me on.

I swallow her moans with sloppy kisses, pulling at her hair with one hand and using the other to pull her hips roughly into mine.

"Mmmmmmmmmm… God!" she screams as I make her come, and I fucking _feel_ her squeezing me. I slam into her three more times before I can't hold on any more. I freeze as I empty into the condom, my forehead falling to her shoulder.

When I feel like I can move, I pull out, flopping over onto my back with a long groan. Holy fuck… I can't remember the last time sex was this good, if ever. It's not like she did anything spectacular or kinky, she's just… Bella. Yeah, she's fucking tight, but it's so much more than that.

I reach down with one hand, pulling the condom off, then sit up slightly, tossing it into the wastebasket next to the bed. I flop back down again, still trying to slow my breathing.

Bella suddenly turns onto her side, pulling the sheet up over her naked body. I turn over toward her, pulling her back into my chest. "Are you cold?" I whisper.

"A little. You're warm."

"I thought I was hot," I chuckle.

"I never said that."

I place a soft kiss on her shoulder. "You were thinking it, baby."

Bella soon seems to fall asleep in my arms. I guess I wore her out, which does make me feel fucking proud. I lie there with her for a while, before I need to get up to piss. I find my boxers on the floor, carrying them into the bathroom with me.

I think about getting back in bed with Bella, but just the fact that I'm thinking about it is freaking me out. Instead, I grab a beer from the kitchen, then put on the lounge pants and sit on the couch.

As I turn the TV on, I notice Leo giving me the side-eye from where he's curled up on the coffee table. "I didn't hurt your mama," I assure him. "Those were good screams."

I try to watch the football game, but I can't stop thinking about this afternoon and the things Bella told me. Of course it makes sense that she was the one driving the car, given how freaked out she is about driving. I should've seen that coming.

The baby thing freaks me out a little bit though. I just can't picture the woman I know doing something so deceitful — well, she did lie to the police for me, so maybe she's not quite the Pollyanna I think she is. I even understand that a little more now, too — the things she said about not wanting to be the reason I lost my life.

I can't believe this guy, her husband. He must have done something to make Bella believe he'd cheat on her, to make her do something so drastic to hold on to him. He _must_ have. If he was cheating, I hope she never, ever finds out.

I feel so bad for her, losing her husband and her baby like that. It's not that I don't understand why she gave up on living, because I do. My father did, and he only lost his wife. But why hasn't someone kicked her in the ass before now? Does no one realize how bad she is? Bella promised me she'd get help and I'm not going to let her forget that promise.

When my stomach starts growling, I realize it's after six and I haven't eaten since lunchtime. I peek in on Bella again, then head to the kitchen to start on dinner. I'll wake her up when it's ready if she's not awake by then.

I really did wear her out this afternoon. I hope I didn't… hurt her. I mean, she hasn't had sex in so long and I know I'm bigger than average. I wasn't exactly rough with her, but I didn't take it easy either. I just gave her what she asked for.

Fuck, I usually don't come back for seconds, but I really, really want to get Bella in bed again. I doubt she'll be up for it tonight though. Maybe she won't be up for it at all. I mean, this is a woman who was once married and expecting a child. She isn't the type to have casual sex, I'm sure of it. And that's all I can offer her — a good time.

Just because we had good sex, it doesn't change anything.

"Hey," I hear Bella's whisper behind me just as I'm finishing up dinner.

"Almost ready."

"What is?"

"Dinner. It's almost seven o'clock."

"Oh. What are we having?"

"Homemade fish and chips. Trying to see if I can make them better than the ones at the brewpub," I explain.

"You spoil me."

"You ain't seen nothing yet, baby," I say, turning around to leer at her. Fuck, she's just in a robe… one pull of the tie and I could have her naked.

"I meant in the kitchen," she replies, rolling her eyes. Yep, still a Pollyanna. I turn back to my cooking before I decide to have _he_r for dinner.

I finish making our plates and carry them to table. When I set Bella's in front of her, I notice she's staring straight ahead, but her eyes don't seem to be focused on anything. She doesn't even notice that I set her plate down.

"Bella!"

"Huh?"

"Where did you go? I put your plate down 30 seconds ago but you're just staring into space."

"Sorry," she whispers, taking a bite of her fish.

"You're not gonna act weird because we fucked, are you?"

"No," she replies quietly. "I'm just…still tired."

"Are you sore?" Fuck, please say no so we can do that again.

"I'm ok," she nods, though I'm not sure I believe her. Damn.

"More football tonight?" she asks when she pushes her plate away.

"The Sunday night game should be over soon. We can maybe catch the end of it."

"No — no, that's ok. I was just wondering."

I grin, picking up her plate. I know Mom can't watch that much football either, unless Emmett's playing. "We can watch a movie, Bella, whatever you want."

"Thank God," she sighs, getting up to help with the dishes. Once they're done, we curl up together on the couch. I let Bella pick the movie seeing as she lets me touch her. After the late news, Bella gets up to get ready for bed. By the time I follow, she's already asleep.

* * *

**A/N: **I remember a lot of RFL readers were worried that Edward was just in it for the sex. What do you think now?

**Contests**: Voting ends in the Friends to Lovers contest (author: FriendsToLoversContest) on Friday night, so go vote for your favorite if you haven't! You can also vote in the Light the Darkness contest (author: Light The Darkness contest) through December 19.


	12. Chapter 12

**Author's Note: **Thanks again to moosals for pre-reading. Stephenie Meyer owns all characters.

I liked this review: "Okay, I'm not a guy, but if I were to portray one, I'd definitely agree with the way you did it. It's not that they always have second intentions, but the downstairs head seem to prevail over the one they've got upstairs!"

* * *

_Monday, September 24, 2012_

"Stop it!" Bella's scream wakes me from a deep sleep. "Don't try to make me feel guilty. Please, stop!" Fuck.

"Bella!" I climb on top of her, shaking her arms in an attempt to snap her out of her nightmare. "Wake up!"

Her eyes blink open but I'm not sure she's _seeing_ me. "Are you here with me, baby?"

"Yes," she whispers. "I'm sorry."

"What were you dreaming about?" I ask, rolling to my side and bringing her with me.

"Jacob. He's upset with me."

"Jacob's dead," I remind her.

"But he still doesn't want me to move on. I don't deserve to be happy after what I did."

"Not that bullshit again." I thought I'd gotten through to her, at least a little bit?

"It's not bullshit, not to me. It's been my reality for almost three years now."

I shake my head, then comb my fingers through her hair. "It wasn't your fault, Bella," I tell her quietly. "Repeat that."

"I… I can't."

"Yes, you can. Tell me it wasn't your fault."

"It wasn't my fault," she whispers.

"Like you mean it," I growl.

She shakes her head, and I can see that she's crying. Fuck. I lean over and kiss her tears away before my mind can even catch up to what I'm doing.

"Say it," I order.

"Edward… I can't."

"You _can_, Bella," I insist, wrapping her tightly in my arms as we lie side by side. "You aren't a bad person. It wasn't your fault. Tell me."

She stares into my eyes for a long time, but she still can't seem to say the words. "Bella," I whisper, tugging on her bottom lip with mine. "Say it, baby. Out loud."

"It wasn't my fault," she finally repeats, though barely audible.

"Again."

"It wasn't my fault," she says again, louder this time. "It wasn't my fault."

_Good girl._ I kiss her gently, then pull back with a smile. I'm getting through, even if she's still crying.

"It wasn't my fault, Edward," she sobs. She throws her leg over mine, scooting closer, and I tighten my arms around her. I can't stop kissing her everywhere I can reach.

"You're naked," she gasps all of a sudden. "Why are you naked?"

"I always sleep naked," I chuckle. "I only kept my boxers on earlier to keep from freaking you out."

"But you like freaking me out."

"That I do," I agree. I kiss her again, taking advantage of her shock to let my tongue explore her mouth. I hadn't necessarily intended for this to be sexual, but my dick has other ideas. I let my hand that's resting on her back drift down into her pajama bottoms until I'm stroking the outside of her panties. Goddamn, I can feel she's wet even through the material.

"Mmmm… I think you like me naked, Bella," I purr. "You are so responsive to me. Take these off," I demand, pulling at the waistband.

I let up on my hold and Bella pulls away long enough to remove her clothes then retakes her place, hitching her leg over my hip again. Fuck, she's right fucking there… so easy to just slip my cock inside her.

So I do.

She gasps and I shush her, claiming her lips. I don't have a lot of room to move, but she just feels so fucking good, I wouldn't change a thing. I move in slow, shallow thrusts, still kissing her.

It's so different from the first time we had sex, but I like it… I love it. Bella has one hand in my hair, pulling gently at it, while her other hand rubs up and down my back. I'm not in any hurry, just enjoying learning the feel of her skin under my hands. I give her ass cheeks a few squeezes, elated that I can finally touch them.

"God, you feel so good," I moan as we continue to rock together. "Never… felt… anything like this."

"Edward, you forgot a condom!" she yells suddenly, trying to pull away.

"Can't… stop… now," I pant. "I'll pull out." Fuck, don't make me stop. If this is sex without a condom, I never want to use one again.

I kiss along her jaw, taking her earlobe in my mouth. And then I feel her insides clamping down on me — hard. Oh my God…

"Oh fuck," I yell, feeling my orgasm much, much closer than I'd expected. I reluctantly pull out of heaven, and moments later I'm coming all over her upper thigh.

I let go of my spent cock, burying my face in the pillow. Holy fuck. I'm just barely conscious of Bella rolling onto her back beside me.

I could easily just fall asleep like this, but eventually I remember that Bella's got a mess on her thigh. Very reluctantly, I swing my legs off the edge of the bed and stand up. "I'll be right back," I whisper when I see her looking up at me.

I tiptoe to the bathroom, finding a washcloth and holding it under the faucet. I return to her, cleaning off the mess, at least what I can see in the moonlight. "Um, sorry I got you all sticky."

"Don't ever be sorry for that," she mumbles.

I laugh at how blissed out she still seems. "Did you see God, baby?"

"Shut up."

I laugh again, tossing the washcloth onto the nightstand before getting back into bed. "I suppose you want to cuddle now."

"Just until I fall asleep," she mumbles. Needing to touch her, I pull her small body onto my chest, stroking through her hair.

* * *

I open my eyes to the harsh sunlight, wondering if last night was a dream. But then I see Bella sleeping beside me and the washcloth on the nightstand and I realize it wasn't.

In the shower, I remember last night, having sex with Bella without a condom. I should be a little worried about that, but I'm pretty sure I pulled out in time. I think.

Of course thinking about it has me hard as a rock in no time, and I jerk off, remembering the feel of her skin on mine. After I get dressed, I head into the kitchen, but I have no idea what I want for breakfast. I'm starving, but nothing really sounds good.

Or maybe my brain is still too stuck on the feel of Bella's body to care.

Eventually I decide to just toast a couple pieces of bread. While they're in the toaster, I pull out the butter and jam, setting them on the table. I hear the toilet flush and realize Bella's awake.

"What are you making?" Bella's voice asks from being me.

"Toast," I reply. "I wasn't feeling creative this morning. Do you want a couple pieces?"

"Sure, yeah," she agrees, putting some food in Leo's bowl and then taking a seat at the table. I put two more pieces in the toaster after the first two pop.

"Did you sleep ok?" I ask tentatively, bringing her a plate. She remains silent, spreading the butter and jam on her breakfast.

"I did, after…"

"You had a nightmare about Jacob?"

She nods. "I dreamed that he was angry with me for… being with you. I know it wasn't rational."

"You still need to talk to a therapist, Bella."

"I know. I promise I will."

"You said your mother dragged you to one in Seattle?" I prompt her.

"Um, yeah. She was staying with me for several weeks after the accident, since I couldn't drive or get around very well in a wheelchair."

"What made her recognize that you needed help?"

She closes her eyes, then speaks so quietly that I can hardly hear her. "I don't… want to tell you."

"You can tell me anything, Bella."

"No… you'll get angry."

"Bella," I warn. Shit, I thought we were past all the secrets.

"She caught me holding a bottle of pills," she whispers.

"What kind of pills?"

"They were Jacob's. Strong painkillers for an old knee injury."

"You were planning to kill yourself?" I ask in disbelief.

"No! Yes… no — I had just found the pills in the medicine cabinet. The idea crossed my mind, but I didn't know if I could go through with it."

"How could you even _think_ about it?" I ask angrily.

She shrugs. "The alternative was a lifetime of guilt. Please don't be angry. It was just a momentary thing, I don't know if I ever would've been serious about it. My mom walked in and saw me, and she called a therapist that afternoon."

I sigh, staring at her across the table. "In a way you did commit suicide," I realize. "Maybe not physically, but you stopped living."

"Don't be angry," she whispers.

"I'm not… it's in the past," I reply. Standing, I take my dishes over to the sink then come back for hers, unable to resist kissing her as I pick them up. "Go take your shower. I'll handle these."

When the dishes are put away, I head into the living room, turning on the TV as I sit down. As usual there is absolutely nothing worth watching on a weekday morning.

"I hate daytime TV," I grumble as Bella steps out of the bathroom. At least my distress makes her laugh. I'm a little disappointed when she sits down at the computer instead of coming to join me, though.

A few minutes later, there's a ding from the computer. "Shit," Bella curses. "Edward, stay down, away from the webcam. And turn the volume down."

I duck down on the couch and find the volume button on the remote control, curious as to what's going on.

"Hi, Dad," I hear Bella say. Oh fuck!

"Bells! I was just about to send a search party out after you." Bells? Oh yeah, she's gonna hear about that one.

"Yeah, sorry. I just haven't been online much lately."

"Are you feeling better than last week? You look better. You look different."

"Different?" she repeats shakily. Fuck, Pollyanna, we really need to work on your acting skills.

"Yeah, you look happier than I've seen you in a long time. Is something going on? Why haven't you been online? It's not like there's anything else to do if you won't leave the house by yourself." He's got that right.

"I took advantage of a few nice days to walk around the lake."

"With that convict on the loose?" he asks angrily. Fuck you, Copper. I'd never hurt her.

"I doubt he's hanging around the lake just waiting to kidnap me," Bella replies. No, but I've fucked her silly twice.

"Don't forget to take pepper spray if you go out."

"I won't, Dad."

"I mean it, Isabella. Look, I've got Friday off, so I'm gonna drive down to see you." Fuck!

"Dad…"

"Don't you want to see your old man?"

"Of course, Dad, I miss you, but… you know Mrs. Cope comes on Fridays."

"You'll be home before I can get down there, unless I leave bright and early." A phone rings in the background. "It's the station — I'll see you Friday."

"Bye, Dad." I jump up as soon as it seems safe, almost laughing at Bella knocking her forehead on the desk.

I rub my hand along her back, trying to comfort her. "Your father would shit a brick if he knew what you've really been doing," I chuckle.

"Don't I know it."

"He loves you." Even if I can see that, though he clearly hates _my_ guts and he doesn't even know I've seen his daughter naked.

"I know. What the hell are we going to do about Friday?"

I shrug. "Hide my things and I'll go hang out by the lake or something. It'll be fine." I hope.

I pull Bella to her feet, kissing her until I get my fill. I've barely touched her since she woke up. And… maybe I know how to get my way.

"Get your coat, we're going out," I announce when I pull back from her lips.

"What? Now where?"

"I want another one of those burgers we had last week." Two pieces of toast don't last me very long — I'm fucking starving already.

"We just got burgers two days ago at Red Robin."

"Half a burger."

"You had more than half."

"Semantics," I shrug.

"Edward…"

"Isabella."

"No one calls me that, you know," she argues, slapping my chest. "And only my dad calls me Bells, before you start." As if I'd steal a nickname from a guy who hates me.

"I want a burger," I insist. "Let's go." I grab her dad's fishing hat from the mudroom, knowing I've won when she sighs, then grabs her coat and purse.

"This time I really need the gun," I tell her. "The entire town has seen my picture and is probably looking for me." I can tell she doesn't like it, but she walks into the bedroom anyway. I follow close behind, watching fascinated as she pulls her sleeve over her hand to pick up the gun from her jewelry box. She's clearly learned a few things from her cop father.

"So this is where you hid it," I muse as she hands it to me. "I expected your underwear drawer or something."

"It makes me nervous when you have that thing," she says quietly as I tuck the gun into the waistband of my jeans.

"The safety is on. It's fine. Come on," I direct, putting my hand on her back to lead her out of the room. Bella locks up the house then hands me her keys.

Once we reach the truck, I unlock the door and climb inside, then reach across and unlock the other door for Bella. I know the way this time, so Bella remains silent but I can tell she's nervous. When we reach Maxi Burger, I pull into the parking lot, shutting off the engine.

"Same as last time?" she asks. I nod in response and Bella hops out.

Watching her walk inside, I feel a little guilty for using my powers of persuasion to get a burger for lunch, but I was hungry, damnit. Sex always makes me hungry. Good thing it's also good exercise.

I know Bella is worried that someone will recognize her, but even if someone does, I can't imagine anyone being nosy enough to wonder who is with her. As long as I've got her dad's fishing hat on, I should be able to pass for him through the truck window.

I sit up straight again when Bella comes out. As she gets settled in her seat, I grab the bag, reaching in to steal two of her fries. I'm fucking starving.

"Hey!"

I wink at her, handing the bag back. "You can have one of my onion rings when we get home."

"I hate this," Bella says quietly as we cross the bridge into Aberdeen. "I'm paranoid that someone is going to recognize me or the truck and see you with me."

"I've got your dad's fishing hat on, Bella. They'll just think I'm him," I assure her.

Once we're back home, Bella unlocks the front door, motioning for me to go inside. "I'll put this away," I tell her, taking the gun out of my jeans. I put it back in its place in the bedroom, then join Bella in the kitchen, where she already has our lunch spread out on the table.

"Mmmm…" I moan as I take a bite of my burger. I need to learn how to grill burgers like this.

"You're lucky you're still young enough to be able to eat like that."

I laugh. "You aren't that old, Bella. Of course, I don't actually know how old you are." She gave me enough information that I could probably figure it out, but I've always sucked at math.

"I'm 30," she admits.

"Oooh… second-oldest woman I've ever been with."

Bella nearly chokes on her lunch. "You've slept with a woman older than me?"

"Yeah. I think she was about 35. One of those recent divorcees trolling the bars for a young stud to make her believe she's still sexy."

"And you were only too happy to oblige."

I shrug, winking at her. "It was my solemn duty." The experienced ones are so much fun, knowing exactly what they want in bed.

Even though she was married for several years, Bella doesn't strike me as "experienced." I don't think she knows what she wants or what would give her pleasure. It might be fun to teach her though. Fuck, my dick is getting a little excited at the possibility of teaching her.

"What's wrong?" I ask after she gets up to throw her last few bites away.

"Nothing."

"_Some_thing."

"It's just…"

I get up and walk toward her, reaching up to tuck her hair behind her ear. "You're not getting weird on me, are you? You don't regret what we did?" God, please say you don't.

"What? No, no, I don't regret it."

Thank God. "Then what's wrong?"

"I know I'm not what you're used to," she whispers. "I'm sure you were disappointed."

"What the fuck are you on about? Did I act like I didn't enjoy myself?" She has _got_ to be fucking kidding.

"No, but… I'm sure you're already bored with me. I'm not… kinky."

"_Bored_ with you?" I take her hand, placing it over my cock. "Does that feel like I don't want to do it again, Isabella?"

"B—but—" Just in case my hard cock wasn't enough of a clue, I take her lips in mine, letting my tongue explain it further. I grasp her around the waist, lifting her onto the kitchen counter while my mouth continues to consume her.

Fuck, I need her naked. I pull back then push up on her top. She lifts her arms obediently and I pull it off, tossing it to the floor before running my hands over her bare skin. "I think there's a sex kitten in there just waiting to come out," I whisper. "Don't move."

Moving as fast as I can with the situation in my pants, I head to the bedroom, pulling a condom from the box and returning to the kitchen with it held in my teeth.

Placing the foil packet on the counter beside her, I open the fly of her jeans and help her down so I can remove her pants and underwear. Then I lift her back onto the counter, kissing her deeply while my hands get better acquainted with her tits.

Her little noises tell me that she's ready — and I am more than ready. I stop kissing and touching her long enough to open my own jeans, shoving them down to my knees. I can't be bothered to take them all the way off. I quickly roll on the condom then step closer to where Bella sits waiting for me.

"Hang on, baby," I warn, winking. In one hard thrust, I'm back in my own version of heaven. I pull at her legs until she gets the hint and wraps them around me. She buries one hand in my hair, holding tight to the edge of the counter with the other.

I move slowly at first, trying to prolong this, then speeding up when I see Bella throw her head back in pleasure. That's it, Pollyanna, let yourself go.

I smirk when I catch her watching the way my cock impales her again and again. "You like to watch, baby?" She looks up at me, turning bright red from embarrassment. So, so much I can teach her…

As I start getting closer, I reach down to circle her clit with one finger. My thrusts speed up and I know this will be over too soon again.

"Ed—" She grasps at my arm. Hang on, baby, I'll make you come first. I lean over, biting at her nipple through her bra until she's screaming incoherently.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck…" I yell before I feel my orgasm rushing through me. Holy fuck. I squeeze my eyes tightly shut and drop my forehead to her shoulder, trying to catch my breath.

When I'm somewhat calm, I turn my head to place a kiss on her neck before I pull out, grasping the end of the condom. With one hand, I pull my jeans back up then throw the condom into the trash.

Bella hops off the counter, then bends over, giving me a great view of her ass as she picks up her clothes from the floor. I'm still trying to think straight as she dashes to the bathroom.

I need to sit down. Slowly, I walk into the living room, flopping on the couch. Bella soon comes to join me, and I pull at her arm until she falls into my lap, straddling me. I love the feel of her slight weight on me.

"Did your husband ever fuck you on the kitchen counter?" I ask, my fingers tickling her sides under her baggy sweater.

"None of your business!" She slaps my chest. Ooh, feisty.

"I'll take that as a no."

Bella shocks me by leaning in and kissing me. My tongue comes out to play and I could be up for another round in no time.

"You want me again already, baby?" I ask when she pulls back.

"No! I was trying to shut you up."

I grin at her. "How many lovers have you had, Isabella?" I trail my fingers lightly down her arms, just wanting to keep touching her.

"Stop calling me that."

"How many?"

"How would you like it if I asked you that question?"

"You can ask," I laugh, "But I really couldn't give you an answer."

"You're disgusting."

"You didn't think so 15 minutes ago. How many, Bella?"

"Two," she finally answers, turning bright red.

"Your husband was your first and only before me?"

"Yes," she whispers, staring down at the couch.

"Were you his first?"

She nods, still not looking at me.

"I have no idea how two virgins ever figure out what to do," I admit. "At least one needs to have some experience."

"Your first time was with an experienced woman?"

"Oh yeah," I reply with a grin. "I was 15 and she was like 21, I think. Older sister of one of my friends. She had a lot to teach," I remember.

"You are so disgusting," Bella repeats, shaking her head. "Sex is meaningless to you, isn't it?"

"It's a good time," I shrug. There doesn't have to be some deep meaning from getting pleasure out of another person's body.

Bella tries to climb off my lap, but I stop her. I'm not done here — I want to learn more about her. "Tell me more about your husband."

"Like what?" she asks.

"You said you were best friends first then high school sweethearts, right?"

"Yeah, we started dating in the summer between our junior and senior years."

"When did you lose your virginity?"

She glares at me, but then decides to answer. "After senior prom."

My mouth drops open in shock. "You dated for almost a year before having sex?"

"Yeah?" She shrugs. "My dad is a cop, Edward. I was paranoid that with his cop instincts, he'd just… know what we'd been doing. I didn't want to disappoint him."

"And Jacob bought that?" I scoff. There's no way he didn't have a piece on the side.

"He never pressured me."

"You said you both went to U-Dub?"

"Yeah," she nods.

"I hope Jacob made up for lost time."

"God, you're disgusting!" She slaps me again, which I've come to learn means I hit a nerve. "We both had roommates. There was no easy place to have sex. I didn't want anyone to walk in and catch us."

She clearly doesn't understand that there is _always_ a way to have sex. "I've had sex with plenty of college girls. And I heard my brother's stories from college. There's always a way."

"Look, it just wasn't a big part of our relationship, all right? We were best friends. Relationships should be about more than sex. Not that you would know anything about that."

"I'm not saying it's the only thing!" I protest. "But two young, good-looking people who claim to be in love should be all over each other. What happened after college?"

"We moved in together once we both graduated with our Bachelor's. It took three months for me to get up the nerve to tell Charlie. I think he badgered Jacob into giving me an engagement ring for Christmas," she says with a smile.

"I hope your sex life improved once you started living together."

She shrugs. "It just wasn't a big part of our relationship, I told you that."

"Bella," I begin slowly, "Did you ever stop and think that maybe you and Jacob weren't really meant to be a couple? Maybe you were just best friends who shouldn't have tried to be more."

"Don't say something like that!" she screams, again trying to get away from me. I hold her closely, not willing to let her move yet.

"I'm not trying to upset you, really. I'm just… trying to make you stop and think for a moment. It's like you've romanticized this in your head as some great love affair, but maybe it really wasn't. Maybe you spent a lot of energy trying to save something that wasn't meant to be saved."

Bella stares at me and I see a few tears leaking out. Fuck, I didn't mean to make her cry. "Don't cry, baby. I'm actually trying to make you feel better," I chuckle. "If everybody gets one great love in their life, maybe you haven't lost yours."

I brush her tears away before leaning in to kiss her gently. She returns my kiss eagerly and in no time, I'm ready to have her naked again.

When I reach for the hem of Bella's shirt, she pulls back. "I'm not having sex with you again."

"You're not, huh? Never?" I ask, raising an eyebrow. We'll see about that.

"Not today. I'm kinda… yeah," she trails off, turning bright red again.

"Out of practice?" I grin. I really was rough with her the last time, but she seemed to enjoy it. I hug her to my chest, stroking my hands through her hair again and again until she relaxes against me.

"You gonna fall asleep?" I whisper.

"Mmm… I shouldn't. I've been neglecting the blog."

"Will you show me?" I ask. I'm not done yet with Operation: Learn About Bella.

Nodding, she climbs off of my lap. I grab one of the kitchen chairs and sit by the PC watching while she answers readers' questions. I don't understand all of what she's saying, but Bella is clearly pretty smart — much smarter than me, in any case.

When the clock in the corner of the screen shows five o'clock, I jump up from the chair to turn on the pre-game show for Monday Night Football. My brother's team is playing the Seahawks tonight. I promise to let Bella know when the game is starting so she can watch Emmett.

When the game starts, she joins me on the couch, curling up at my side. Leo jumps up to join us, lying across both our laps so we can each pet him. Bella could learn from her cat.

"Your brother is good," she remarks when Emmett makes an awesome catch for a long first down.

"Yeah, he is. He went to the University of Miami on a football scholarship."

"It's his… third year, I guess?"

"Yep," I nod.

"Is he… is he married?"

"He's engaged. To one of their cheerleaders. I'll try to point her out at halftime."

"Have you met her?"

"Yeah, he brought her around last summer. Her name is Rose. She's like five-foot-ten, long blonde hair. And a total bitch."

"Ow!" I exclaim after she slaps me in the chest — harder this time. "She was!" I insist. "She looked at me like I was somehow beneath her — the jailbird adopted brother."

At halftime, I jump up from the couch to heat up the rest of the leftover chili in the microwave for our dinner. We eat quickly then come back to the living room so I can show Bella my brother's fiancée.

"There she is," I point her out. Rose sticks out as taller than most of the other girls.

"She's very pretty."

"If you like that type," I snort. "Told you I prefer brunettes."

She nods, but I'm not sure she believes me. It's true though — there's something about the combination of pale skin and dark hair that really gets me.

The Seahawks end up winning the game on a disputed touchdown in the last few seconds. I cheer along with the crowd, trying to get Bella to high-five me.

"Didn't you want your brother's team to win?" she asks.

"Only when they're not playing the Seahawks," I shrug.

When I get up for another beer, Bella steals the remote control. _Fine_, I guess she can pick what we watch next. She snuggles into my side again and I pull her close. She said no sex tonight, but that doesn't mean I can't touch her.

* * *

**A/N: **Hmmm… So his priority now is Operation: Learn About Bella. And Charlie is getting suspicious!


	13. Chapter 13

**Author's Note: **Thanks again to moosals for pre-reading. Stephenie Meyer owns all characters.

_Tuesday, September 25, 2012_

* * *

I open my eyes to a mass of dark brown in front of my face. I blink a few times before I realize it's Bella's hair — Bella is in my arms.

Fuck!

I've never slept holding a woman. Trying not to wake her, I lift my arm off of Bella and slide out from underneath her body. I sit up slowly then look down at her sleeping form, trying to make some sense out of this. What. The. Fuck?

I stand up then shuffle over to the window and open the curtains. It's dark and gloomy outside, a steady rain.

Bella moans in her sleep and I turn my head, watching as she rolls over onto her side. That moan went straight to my dick. I wonder if she's feeling up to having sex today. In the past, I'd just spend the day in bed on rainy days like today — if I didn't have to work, that is. Spending the day in bed with a warm, willing female body? Fuck yeah — heaven on earth.

I tiptoe out of the bedroom to use the bathroom while I formulate my plan. Maybe if I butter her up first with breakfast in bed, I can convince Bella to spend the day in bed with me. I put on a pair of boxers then return to the bedroom, crawling onto the bed.

"Bella." I place soft kisses on the back of her shoulders until she stirs. "Are you awake?" I whisper.

"No."

I chuckle, sucking her earlobe into my mouth.

"Go do whatever you women do in the morning and then come back here. I want to serve you breakfast in bed." With a final kiss to her cheek, I'm up and off the bed.

I know my breakfast has to be more special than the toast I made yesterday. I open the pantry and the first thing I see is a fresh bottle of maple syrup — pancakes!

I'm just pouring the batter onto the griddle when I hear Bella's footsteps behind me. I turn around and glare at her. "I thought I told you to go back to bed?"

"You don't need to make me breakfast in bed."

"But I want to. Back to bed!"

"Always so bossy," she grumbles, turning around.

When the pancakes are done, I fix two plates, setting them both on a tray along with some orange juice and carrying it into the bedroom.

"Pancakes?" Bella remarks when I set it down over her thighs, crossing my legs to sit beside her.

"Yep. Eat up, you're going to need your energy."

"What does _that_ mean?"

"It means we're spending the day in bed."

"Oh really?" she questions. She doesn't say no, though.

"This needs to come off," I instruct, lifting up on her pajama top until she's naked from the waist up. "Wouldn't want it to get dirty," I add before kissing her.

"You taste like maple syrup," she says, licking her lips as she pulls the covers up to spoil my view of her naked tits.

Even though I put more pancakes on my own plate, I'm still finished eating before Bella. I sit watching her eat when I decide to… pay her back a little for the way she spoonfed me for two days.

I pick up her fork, cutting off half of her remaining piece. "I'm going to feed you now," I announce, swirling the pancake in the excess maple syrup pooled on the plate. I tug the covers down as I bring the fork to her mouth. A drop of syrup falls onto her chest on the way to her mouth.

"Oops," I grin.

"You did that on purpose."

"Who me?" I ask innocently. Well, I can't leave a sticky mess on her chest, so I lean over, cleaning it up with my tongue. "Mmm…" Maple syrup tastes even better when mixed with the saltiness of Bella's skin.

I feed her the last bite before removing the tray from her lap and setting it on the other side of the bed. Running the tines of the fork through the syrup, I then hold it over her, watching as more drops fall onto her tits. Just as before, I lick the syrup off, swirling my tongue to get every last drop.

The next time, I deliberately aim for her nipples, cleaning up my mess until both peaks are hard and erect. I move downward from her chest, letting the drops fall down her stomach and licking a trail behind them until I reach the top of her pajama pants.

"Pants, off," I command. My dick is already screaming for her.

Bella quickly strips off the rest of her clothes and lets me position her flat on her back. Grinning, I pull her thighs apart, turning now to my own plate for extra syrup.

She jumps when the next drop of maple syrup hits right where I want to be. "Oh God," she moans when my tongue laps at the syrup. I do it one more time before I get too fucking impatient. With a shrug, I pick up the plate and let some of the sticky syrup pour all over her pussy.

"Jesus, you'll get the sheets all covered in syrup."

"We'll wash them," I growl before diving in, licking gently from her entrance up to her clit. I rarely go down on a woman, but for some reason, I really want to pleasure her. From the way she's moaning and writhing, I'm not sure her husband ever did this for her, which makes me want to do it even more.

I pour the rest of the syrup over her, licking until I've gotten every last drop before sucking her clit into my mouth. Bella reaches down, grasping at my hair. "Stop, Edward, it's too much."

I shake my head — oh no, baby, I'm not gonna stop. I begin flicking her clit with my tongue until she's screaming out her orgasm, shaking uncontrollably. _That's it, baby…_

I lift my head, grinning at her as drops of syrup run down my chin. Fuck, I love how responsive she is; my dick is hard as a fucking rock, as usual. I quickly set the tray on the floor before reaching for the box of condoms on the nightstand. I strip off my boxers then roll on the condom, kneeling between her legs.

I lift her up until her hips are resting on my lap then place my cock at her entrance. I slowly press forward, holding still until I get used to how fucking amazing she feels, even with a condom.

Slowly I begin to fuck her, grasping her hips as they rest on my thighs. Her back is arched up off the bed and it's the hottest fucking thing the way she's laid out for me, her tits bouncing with every thrust and just… goddamn. I look up toward her face, grinning when I see how intently she's watching me.

"Play with your tits," I whisper, recognizing the one thing that could make this ever hotter.

"What?"

"Touch yourself, Bella."

She hesitates, but brings her hands up, holding her tits while she brushes her thumbs over her nipples.

"Fuck, that is hot," I growl, picking up the pace. My movements start to become erratic as I near my climax, but I need Bella to come first. I begin rubbing tight circles on her clit with my thumb, trying to get her there.

"Oh my God," she screams, clenching around me repeatedly. Oh fuck… I thrust hard just one more time before I lose it, collapsing forward as I empty into the condom, my head cradled between my two favorite pillows.

"Holy shit, I think you're made for me," I mumble into her tits. Finally I lift my head slightly, sucking one nipple into my mouth.

"You aren't seriously trying to start something again?" she asks.

I laugh, slowly pulling out and letting her hips drop to the bed. "No, I was getting the last drop of syrup."

Bella shakes her head, sitting up slowly. "I so need a shower."

"Can I come?" I ask with a grin. I fucking love shower sex.

"You've been in my shower — you know it's not big enough for two people."

"Sure it is," I shrug.

I throw the used condom into the wastebasket and grab another foil packet from the box. I see Bella digging around in a drawer and tug on her arm to stop her. "Uh-uh… we're spending the day in bed. You don't need those."

Rolling her eyes, she closes the drawer and pulls her robe down from the back of the bedroom door. I shake my head at her prudishness as I follow her into the bathroom and turn on the shower, grabbing a couple of towels from the cabinet.

"We're just getting clean, right?" she asks as we wait for the water to heat up.

"What do you think?" I reply with a grin, showing her the foil packet hidden in my hand. "Please tell me you've had shower sex."

"Um, no."

"Seriously?" Oh Pollyanna, there is so much I can teach you.

"We tried once, but Jacob was too tall."

My brow furrows as I try to figure out what she means, but then it clicks. "You mean he tried to do it from behind?"

"Yeah," she admits, her face blushing a delicious shade of pink.

"Eh, that way is ok; I prefer to hold my partner against the wall. Just gotta be strong enough," I shrug. "Jacob should've been."

Bella tests the water then removes her robe and steps into the shower. I follow close behind then set the condom on the edge of the small seat in the stall.

"Isn't it kind of pointless to get clean and _then_ have sex?" Bella wonders.

"Duh! I need a couple more minutes recovery time, so wash your hair, then sex, then get clean."

"You have this all figured out, don't you," she says with a smile.

I grin back, leaning down to kiss her quickly.

We both reach for our own bottles of shampoo, but then I stop to help Bella with hers. "I love your hair," I confess. "Don't ever cut it." So much fun to just run my hands through it — though I still think it's the perfect length to pull while I'm fucking her from behind. If she ever lets me do that.

While she rinses out the shampoo, I lather up my own head, waiting for her to finish up so I can step under the spray. After helping her with the conditioner, I start playing with her tits while she's rinsing it out. That's as long as I can stand to be around naked, wet Bella without touching her.

As soon she moves from under the pounding water, my lips are on her. I had a semi already, so it doesn't take long at all before my cock is at full mast. I stroke my fingers slowly between her legs, making sure she's ready for this.

I grab the condom from where I left it on the seat, then roll it onto my hard cock. "Jump, baby," I direct, grasping her under her ass. She jumps up as I lift, wrapping her legs around me without even being told. I'm buried inside her in one thrust.

Pinning her back against the tiled wall of the shower, I begin moving inside her, dropping kisses to her mouth, her chin, her neck, her collarbone. She scratches her nails up and down my back and oh fuck, it feels amazing. When I lift my mouth to hers again, our tongues tangle together. Pollyanna can give as good as she gets.

Never stopping the movement of my hips, I lift her up higher, taking one of her nipples into my mouth and sucking hard. I move her just enough to change the angle, listening to her moans and whimpers. I know she's close, and moments later she's screaming and cursing with her orgasm. She squeezes me so tightly that I come in no time.

I slowly lower her to the ground, watching as her knees buckle. "It's only the beginning, baby," I whisper when she leans into my chest. I'm gonna make you feel so good, Pollyanna, that you'll never want me to leave.

Fuck — I need to leave someday. Don't I?

The water is growing cold, so we quickly wash up then step out of the shower to dry off. "I should probably blow dry my hair," she says quietly.

"Ok," I agree. "I need to change the sheets, unless you just want to get covered in syrup again." I pull her against me, kissing her until my dick twitches. _Down, boy._ "Just come join me when you're done."

I head into the bedroom, stripping the dirty sheets off the bed. At first I just dump them on the floor, rolled up in a ball, but then I decide that might piss Bella off, so I carry them into the mudroom and start the load in the washer.

I find a fresh set of sheets in the drawer I'd seen Bella pull them out of earlier, then try to figure out how to make the bed. Sure, I've done it before, but that doesn't mean I'm any good at it. When the bed is made, I leap onto it, closing my eyes as I stretch out.

My mind drifts to the thought I had in the bathroom. I was only supposed to stay here until I got the handcuffs off and some new clothes. Then I was going to stay until I figured out a safe way to leave. But I haven't made any plans to leave or even thought about it really. At first I was distracted by trying to figure out Bella's secrets… and now I'm distracted by having sex with her.

As long as she's not asking me to leave, do I need to think about it? I've never been one to look toward the future; I just take life as it comes. And right now, my life is pretty fucking good. Bella's got a tight little body and she seems to be sexually attracted to me. I'm supposed to give this up for a life on the run? I'm not fucking stupid.

I hear Bella's footsteps on the hardwood floor and open my eyes, watching as she walks into the bedroom wearing her fucking robe again. She stops in the doorway, staring at me. "Don't just stand there," I tell her in a husky voice.

She walks forward, climbing onto the bed and lying on her side facing me. I lean up on one elbow, mirroring her position. "Hi."

"Hi," she replies.

"I believe you said something on Sunday about wanting to trace the lines of ink on my skin… with your tongue?" I watch as that adorable blush takes over her face. "I'm all yours, baby. My body is your wonderland."

"I don't think that's quite how the song goes."

I shrug, taking her hand and pulling it toward my chest, rolling onto my back.

Bella moves her hand to my right arm, tracing her fingers over the pair of dice, the cards, the roulette wheel. "Why all the Vegas stuff?" she asks curiously, picking up my arm so she can follow the designs around to the back side.

"Have you seen _Forrest Gump_?" I ask, though I'm sure everyone has seen it.

"Yeah, but what does that have to do with anything?"

"Forrest Gump says, 'Life is like a box of chocolates.' This is my version — life is a gamble, uncertain, good luck or bad. You never know where you're going to land."

"That's kinda… deep."

"Didn't think I had it in me, did ya?" I reply with a wink.

She moves to explore my left arm then, tracing along the images. "These look kind of familiar, but I can't quite place them."

"_Tim Burton's A Nightmare Before Christmas_. It's my favorite movie."

"You got your favorite movie tattooed all over your arm?"

"Why not?" I shrug. "Those are the newest ones. It's not actually all done yet. Some of them still need to be colored in."

"These must cost a fortune."

"A buddy of mine is a tattoo artist; he gives me a pretty good deal," I explain.

My breathing picks up a little as she moves to my chest, tracing the wings of the butterfly over my heart. "Why a butterfly for your mom?"

"She liked them," I answer quietly. "At least I think so. There was a butterfly carved in her headstone."

She brushes her fingers lightly over my mom's initials, the dates of her birth and death. God, I love the way she touches me, but that's not what she said she wanted to do…

"I thought you wanted to do that with your tongue?" I ask with a grin.

Bella looks up at me, swallows hard then leans in, tracing over the butterfly's body with her tongue. _Oh fuck… careful what you ask for, Cullen._ My dick immediately takes notice.

Switching sides, she traces the devil's image with her fingers. "The devil was your father?" she whispers.

I shake my head. "His voices, not him."

"When you first showed me this one, I wanted to kiss each of your scars."

"Do it." Please, _please_ do it…

She leans over, placing open-mouthed kisses on the three old knife wounds. Once again, I can't remember anyone else ever treating me with such tenderness. The other women I've been with were freaked out by my scars, if they noticed them at all.

"Can you feel that? Do they hurt at all?"

"I can feel it," I reply quietly. "They don't hurt, but sometimes the skin feels tight there when I'm really stretching."

"Turn over so I can see the one on your back."

"I can't turn over."

"Of course you can."

"Um, no… it's not really possible for me to lie on my stomach right now." I motion down to where my cock is hard as a fucking rock again. "It's a Phoenix on my back," I whisper. "Rising from the ashes and all that, since I nearly died."

Slowly, she reaches her hand down to my cock, trailing her fingers lightly up one side. Her touch is too much and not nearly enough all at once.

"Bella," I warn. "Do not tease me."

I watch as she wraps her fingers around my cock, squeezing a little as she moves from base to tip. Handjobs don't really do it for me, but I'm not sure my cock would complain right about now.

But then I see her scoot down a little and take a deep breath. Is she gonna…?

Oh please, Pollyanna, show me what your mouth can do. I hold my breath as she leans over, sucking just the tip of my cock into her mouth. My hips buck off the bed a little from how good it feels, and she immediately pulls back. "Sorry," I whisper.

She tries again and I will myself to remain still this time. She sucks about half of my cock into her mouth, then pulls back, swirling her tongue all around me. "Is that… ok?" she asks hesitantly.

"Pretty much the only way to mess up a blowjob is if you bite me."

I try not to lose it as she continues sucking and licking me. Fuck, she may not have much technique, but she's got a hot, wet mouth — and that's pretty much all a guy needs. I get the feeling she will _not_ like it if I come in her mouth though, so I tug at her hair to get her off my cock. I hurriedly reach over to the box of condoms on the nightstand and grab another foil packet.

Opening the packet with my teeth, I hand Bella the condom to put on me. She looks a little confused, but she manages to do it, then removes her robe. When she starts to roll onto her back, I reach out to grab her arm, shaking my head.

"Your turn to be on top. I think I'll just lie here and watch." I grin at how scared she looks. Surely she's been on top before! While I have no complaints about sex with Bella, she hasn't been the most active participant so far. She seems cool with that, but she'd enjoy it so much more if she used my body to get her own pleasure.

Bella takes a deep breath, then lifts her right leg until she's straddling me. Slowly, she sinks down until I'm buried inside her heaven. _Oh God._ My hands are lying at my side, twitching to touch her, but I want to let her move at her own pace. She takes a moment to adjust, then places her hands on my shoulders for leverage and starts to move.

"That's it, baby… take me all the way in," I encourage her. I lift my hands to play with her tits, then pull her forward until I can take her right nipple in my mouth, releasing it with a pop.

Eventually I begin lifting my hips to meet her downward thrusts, increasing the pleasure for both of us. She cries out when I take even more control, holding on to her hips so I can lift her up and down at my speed. Fuck, she feels good.

"You ride me so good, baby," I moan. "Tell me you're close."

"So close," she pants. I redouble my efforts, slamming her down onto me harder and harder. "Oh my… God, Edward!" she screams as she comes.

I come hard with a long groan, then release her hips, flopping back to the bed. Bella collapses forward onto my chest, breathing heavily. She's like a soft, warm blanket over me.

I wrap my arms around her, stroking up and down her back. "Can you move, baby?" I whisper when the condom starts to get uncomfortable.

Slowly, she lifts her leg and I slip out of her. Bella flips over onto her back, while I reach down to grab the condom, tossing it in the wastebasket. I turn over and pull her onto her side until we're spooning… fucking spooning!

I snuggle my nose into Bella's neck, breathing in her scent. Fuck, I love the way she smells. In no time, her breathing evens out as she falls asleep in my arms. I don't understand what she's doing to me. I don't do this with women — I've never wanted to before. But I just can't stop touching her.

I close my eyes, maybe doze for a few minutes. When I open my eyes, my stomach growls, so I know it's time to eat again.

I make us some sandwiches in the kitchen, then head back to the bedroom to wake up Bella. I kneel on the floor in front of her, just watching her sleep for a few moments. She looks so innocent like this. I have no idea what the hell she's doing with me, but I'm not going to contemplate that right now — just enjoy it while it lasts.

"Wake up, sleeping beauty," I whisper, stroking her face. Bella's eyes blink open and I can't resist smiling at her. "Lunch, come on. I know you'll get pissed at me for getting crumbs in the bed, so we'll eat at the table."

She clambers out of bed, grabbing her robe from the foot of the bed, and follows me into the kitchen.

"Just sandwiches," I tell her as she sits down at the table, "Nothing special." I pour our drinks then join her.

When we're finished with lunch, Bella helps me clean up then I lead her back into the bedroom. She looks up at me questioningly.

"What part of 'we're spending the day in bed' didn't you understand?" I grin, opening the tie of her robe. "It's raining outside; there's nothing else to do."

Once we fall into bed, I pull her small body to me, kissing her deeply. I've never enjoyed kissing a woman as much as I enjoy kissing Bella, though I have no idea why that is.

"I don't think I'll ever get tired of kissing you," she moans when I move on to her neck. I chuckle at how much her thoughts mirror mine.

I let my mind go completely blank except for thoughts of Bella — her lips, her skin, the touch of her hands on my skin. Time ceases to have any meaning. Of course, at some point my dick starts to cry out for a little attention. I ignore it as long as I can, until it's actually fucking painful.

One of my hands is on Bella's ass and I start to wonder if she'll let me fuck her from behind now. I guess there's only way to find out.

"Hands and knees," I whisper.

She looks up at me skeptically. "Trust me," I say with a wink. "I'm gonna make you forget your own name."

Bella eyes widen, but she wastes little time in scrambling to her hands and knees. She watches over her shoulder as I retrieve a condom and slide it on. I crawl on my knees until I'm behind her, then run my hands up and down her back to relax her. I squeeze that amazing ass, then stick two fingers inside her to make sure she's ready.

"Ready for this, baby?"

"Yes," she replies confidently.

I smile, though I know she can't see me. "I knew there was a sex kitten hiding in there."

I push inside slowly, until my hips are right up against hers. _Oh fuck, so tight this way._ I kiss the middle of her back, and then slowly pull almost all the way out. I thrust in again and my eyes roll back in my head at how fucking good she feels.

"Holy shit!" she cries out once I've worked up a good rhythm. I chuckle, loving that I'm making her feel like this. Damn, this is even better than I imagined it would be.

"Drop down to your forearms," I direct and she obeys immediately. The only sounds are our heavy breathing and the slapping of our skin. I reach around to fondle her swinging breasts, never slowing my relentless pounding.

"Ready to come?" I ask with a groan.

"Yessss…"

I push down on her upper back until her chest is touching the mattress. I make sure to grind against her on every stroke, so she feels every inch of my cock inside her.

"Please," she begs. Oh fuck… I love it when women beg.

I slam into her hard three times, biting her shoulder as I empty into the condom. Fuck, she didn't — and then I feel her coming, squeezing me so hard she prolongs my own orgasm.

"Fuck," I moan, "You are going to be the death of me."

Bells laughs, her hips falling to the bed when I pull out. She buries her face in the pillow while I get rid of the condom then flop onto my back.

"Why are you laughing?" I really can't see what's funny here.

"I'm nothing special, Edward," she replies quietly.

I tug her toward me until she's half sprawled across my chest. "You have no idea how sexy you are, do you?"

She lifts her head, leaning her chin on my chest. "I'm not sexy," she argues. "I'm nothing like the girls you usually have sex with."

"You're right, you're not like them. But you're still sexy. Who knew the innocent act would work for me," I grin.

She shakes her head before laying it back across my chest and closing her eyes. I stroke her hair softly until she seems to have fallen asleep again. I'm really good at wearing her out. I bet she's never had a sexathon like this before. Well, neither have I if I'm being honest — I don't think I've ever gone more than two rounds before passing out drunk.

Bella is just… different. I can't fucking get enough of her. The more we have sex, the more I want it. She's like a drug to me, my own personal brand of heroin. I don't understand it at all, but I'm not going to dwell on it.

Bella makes the sweetest noises as she uses me as a pillow. I reach up and stroke her occasionally, just needing to touch some part of her, however innocently. When she eventually rolls over away from me, my arms just feel… empty. I quickly turn onto my side, spooning behind her. Maybe I'll just close my eyes for a little while.

* * *

When I wake up, Bella is still asleep in my arms. I can't deal with the implications of that right now. I don't know how to deal with it. So I'll do what I do best instead.

I drop kisses on Bella's shoulder until I see her eyelashes flutter. "Are you finally awake?" I ask with fake irritation.

"You wore me out, Edward."

I chuckle. "I promise to go easier on you this time. Turn over."

She rolls onto her back, where I greet her with a kiss. When the rest of her body starts calling to me, I move on top of her, kissing my way down from her mouth. I spend a lot of time enjoying her perky tits before continuing down, finishing by circling her navel with my tongue.

When my dick starts screaming for attention, I reach for the box of condoms, returning with a foil packet. I stop when I notice Bella's apprehensive look. "Are you sore?" Please say no, please say no.

"Not really." That's not a yes — but it's not a no either.

"Do you want me to stop? I promise to go slow."

"I want to see you do slow," she nods.

I smile at getting the green light, then roll the condom on, laying my entire body over her. I kiss her softly as I grasp my cock and push inside. I thrust as slowly as I can, kissing every inch of her soft skin within my reach.

Bella wraps her legs around me, pulling me in closer, and I have to fight against my instincts to keep this slow. "That feels good," I moan as she scratches at my scalp. I kiss her again, caressing the inside of her mouth with my tongue, feeling the sweat-soaked skin of my chest slide against hers.

As we continue to move together, I'm struck by the… intimacy of our position. I initiated this because our easy intimacy was freaking me out, but I'm right back there again. No, no, no… this isn't me. I don't do this.

I curl my arms under her shoulders, lifting her slightly, before picking up the pace a little. My mouth alternates between her breasts, tugging gently and sucking at her nipples until I can feel myself getting close.

"Now, Isabella," I growl, tilting her hips so my cock brushes her clit on every thrust. When she comes in wave after wave, I lose all control.

"Fucking hell," I shout as I come harder than I think I ever have before. I pull out and roll away from her, shaking with the force of my orgasm.

Now I'm _really_ freaking out. I throw my arm over my eyes, trying to slow my breathing. I want to bolt from the bed, but Bella is still awake and I don't want to offend her or something.

"Bella?" I whisper sometime later. When there's no answer, I crawl out of bed to use the bathroom and grab a pair of boxers from the bag. I sit on the couch, holding my head in my hands.

I'm startled by the cat jumping up onto my lap. "Hey Leo," I whisper, reaching out to pet him. "What kind of spell does your mama have over me, huh?"

Damnit, I wish the cat could answer. I lean my head against the back of the couch, squeezing my eyes closed. I'm not stupid enough to think that I can just stay here with Bella indefinitely — if nothing else, I'll have to go back when I get a new trial — but the thought of not having her near me…

I just can't. I can't think about it.

* * *

When my stomach growls, I stand up and stretch before heading into the kitchen. There are a couple chicken breasts thawing in the fridge, perfect for chicken parmigiana. I don't have time to make a sauce completely from scratch, so I find a couple cans of tomato sauce and stewed tomatoes and just add my own seasonings.

I'm waiting for the cheese to melt on top of the chicken breasts when Bella walks into the kitchen, dressed in her robe. "I was just about to wake you," I smile. "Dinner should be ready in five minutes."

"What are we having?"

"Chicken parm. Leo still needs dinner if you want to take care of that."

"Poor thing, locked out of my bedroom all day," she says as she grabs a can of cat food.

"I told you he has beady little eyes." Not to mention the fact that some of my naked parts may look like a cat toy to him. What does he know? He's neutered.

After dinner, I lead Bella to the living room to watch Chopped with me.

"Not back to bed?" she asks.

"It's Tuesday," I remind her. I pick up the remote control, turning it to the Food Network. Bella curls up against my side as I throw my arm around her, keeping her close to me. And soon Leo jumps up onto the couch for some attention.

Several episodes later, my hands are getting antsy to touch her. I draw gentle circles on her shoulder, then trace a path up and down her arm. The electricity between us starts to tingle and I need her again or I feel like I'll go crazy. I'm like a junkie who needs his next fix.

"Are you gonna let me have you again?" I whisper. "It's been at least five or six hours."

"But who's counting, right?" she jokes.

"On your back, baby."

She quickly scrambles onto her back with her feet in my lap. I lift them to stand, then dash into the bedroom for a condom. I set the condom on the corner of the couch then crawl over her body, trying not to crush her.

I stare down at Bella, flushed and panting a little as she looks up at me. I have to kiss her, it's like it's as necessary as breathing. I kiss a path down from her lips, untying her robe so I can access her tits.

As I sit up to remove my boxers, I notice the damn cat watching us from the coffee table. "Scram, Leo," I growl. I don't want to stop long enough to lock him in the bedroom.

Once I've got the condom on, I climb back on top of her, holding her face gently between my hands. I don't know what exactly I'm… feeling, but I need to let her know how different she is from other women I've fucked. How _special_ she is.

"You know most girls don't get a repeat, don't you?"

"I… what?"

"This… today… it isn't my usual M.O.," I clarify.

"Ok," she replies as I press inside. Fuck, I've lost count of how many times we've had sex today, but I still can't get over how fucking good she feels. When I need to go deeper, I lift her left leg to my shoulder, the pleasure almost overwhelming me.

"Meow!"

"It's ok, Leo," she pants, turning her head toward the fucking cat. "He thinks you're hurting me," she explains.

I remember what those claws felt like when he was "innocently" standing on my chest, and I don't want them anywhere near me. I lift Bella up and off the couch, still impaled on my cock, and turn to sit up against the back of the couch with her on top.

"You're my shield," I tell her as I begin lifting her up and down rapidly. She loops her arms around my neck, kissing me until I think I'm going to lose my mind.

Bella pulls away suddenly, staring down at where we're joined. Fuck, she's kinkier than she thinks she is. She's soon screaming out her orgasm, her walls squeezing me tightly. I come hard, wrapping my arms around her to pull her close, then lean my head back against the couch and squeeze my eyes shut.

"I need a shower," Bella whispers, startling me from my sex coma. "And no, you can't come." I pout a little as she climbs off my lap. I stay right where I am… well, I hold a pillow over my dick in case the cat gets any ideas.

Within just a few minutes the bathroom door opens and I know it's my turn for a shower. I wash off the overwhelming scent of sex then go to find Bella already asleep in bed. Refusing to think about _why_, I spoon behind her, holding her to me.

* * *

**A/N: **Damn this ended up long in Cheeky's POV. When I posted this chapter in Bella's POV, I said that there really was some actual character development in there, but I don't think anyone believed me! _Now_ do you believe me?

My one-shot "Inside Out" won several awards in the Friends to Lovers Contest, including First Place n the Judges' Score! It's posted on my profile now, so go check it out if you haven't yet.


	14. Chapter 14

**Author's Note: **Thanks again to moosals for pre-reading. Stephenie Meyer owns all characters.

Yay, you all found the character development in the previous chapter!

* * *

_Wednesday, September 26, 2012_

I wake up with my arms around Bella again. Instead of freaking out, I breathe in her scent, snuggling closer to her naked body. She stretches a little, that perfect round ass coming in contact with my dick. I'm hard in moments — well, hard_er_.

I guess my addiction to her hasn't dampened overnight.

I move my hand up from her stomach until I'm cupping one of her tits in my hand, brushing my thumb over her nipple while I place tiny kisses along the side of her neck.

"Edward… let me sleep," she mumbles.

_Not a chance, baby._ I massage her left breast in my hand, tweaking the nipple. "I want you," I whisper lowly in her ear.

Kissing her shoulder, I slide my hand down from her tits until I'm stroking her pussy softly, spreading her wetness around. "I feel how much you want me, baby."

I push one finger inside her, brushing it in and out at a slow but steady pace. "Do you want me to fuck you with my finger, baby?" I whisper.

A long moan is her only answer.

"You gotta tell me, or I'll stop," I warn.

"Don't stop," she begs. That's it, baby, you gotta learn to tell me what you want.

She whimpers as I add another finger, curling them a little each time I pull them back out. My thumb circles her clit, making her gasp. I slowly thrust my hard cock into her lower back while I continue to finger her. Meanwhile, I suck on the soft skin of her neck, giving in to a primal instinct to mark her.

Bella lifts her left leg a bit, opening herself up to me more fully, and I take advantage by moving a little faster, a little harder. In no time she's clamping down on my fingers, but I don't stop until I've wrung every last bit of her orgasm out of her.

When her body finally slackens, I pull away, grabbing a condom from the box on the nightstand. I put it on quickly, then lift her leg up over mine and slide inside easily, groaning loudly.

"Sorry, I think this is gonna be fast," I warn before I begin to move. Fuck, she feels so good like this. I wouldn't mind waking up like this every morning.

Wait, what?

"Mmm…" She moans as I continue to fuck her, spurring me on to move faster. "Oh my God," she screams when she comes again, triggering my own climax just moments later. I slip out of her, throwing away the condom before flopping onto my back.

I feel almost dizzy. I've never been a one-woman kind of guy, but for Bella… I think maybe I want to be. And that scares the shit out of me.

"I'm gonna shower," I say quietly a few minutes later. "I'll be quick, then go make breakfast."

I grab some clothes out of the bag to put on after my shower. I'm sure there's no chance Bella will spend the day in bed with me again, even though I hear the rain hitting the roof.

I'm not planning to butter her up for anything this time, but I still feel like making Bella a nice breakfast. She has a few slices of bread that will go stale soon, so I decide to make French toast. I hear Bella turn the water on in the shower while I'm gathering the ingredients.

I'm almost done making our breakfast when I hear Bella's footsteps behind me. I hear her open a can of cat food then a chair scraping the floor as she sits down at the table. I turn around, unable to resist smiling at her before turning back to my French toast. I grab a box of powdered sugar from the makeshift pantry to top it off, then carry the plates to the table.

"French toast?" she asks in shock.

"Yep," I smile.

"You do spoil me."

I shrug, embarrassed at the praise. "It's the least I can do," I mumble. I _want_ to spoil her.

As we eat, I notice Bella staring off into space. "What's wrong?" I ask. "And don't tell me nothing."

"Just thinking ahead," she shrugs.

I narrow my eyes at her. "Don't do that. You gotta take life a day at a time, baby."

"But — what happens when you leave? I mean, I know you can't stay here forever, or until you get a new trial…"

"Come here, baby." I crook my fingers at her, and she gets up, walking over to me. I pull her down to sit across my lap, cupping her cheek. "Where else am I gonna go?" Before she can reply, I leave three soft kisses on her lips before pulling away with a smile. We gaze into each other's eyes and I want… I want to tell her…

A hard knock at the front door breaks the tender moment.

Bella pulls back a little, and we continue to stare at each other. "Who do you think that is?" she whispers.

"It's Wednesday, right? It wouldn't be Mrs. Cope. Would your dad show up early?"

She groans. "Go hide in the bedroom," she suggests, standing up from my lap. "I don't think he'll go in there."

"You don't _think_ he will?"

She shrugs, and the knock sounds again. Bella tries to hurry me along into the bedroom, then moves to the front door.

Not that I plan to use it, but I grab the gun out of her jewelry box before moving behind the bedroom door. Bella's closet looks like it was added in after the house was originally built, leaving some dead space where the door opens next to where the closet juts out into the room. This seems like as good a place to hide as any; I wouldn't be able to hear what's going on if I hide in the closet.

I hold my breath as I hear the squeak of the front door being opened.

"He—hello, officers," I hear Bella say. "What can I do for you?"

Officers?! It's not her fucking dad? What the hell is going on?

"Mrs. Isabella Black?" a deep voice asks.

"Um, yes."

"I'm Officer Paul Embry from the Aberdeen police department. This is Officer Mike Newton and Sergeant Marcus Aaron. We have a search warrant. May we come in, please?"

"A—a search warrant? What for? I haven't done anything."

"Please stand back and let us through, Ma'am."

I hear footsteps as the men walk into the house. Please, please let this not have anything to do with me. But why else would they have a fucking search warrant?

"Ma'am," Officer Embry begins, "Do you have a 1953 Chevy pick-up?" _Oh fuck!_

"Um, yes. Well, I suppose it's technically registered to my father."

"Do you know where it is?"

"It's out back," she answers.

"Ma'am, we received a tip on Monday that a man looking very much like escaped convict Edward Cullen was driving your truck through Aberdeen."

I squeeze my eyes closed, trying not to shit my pants. This is it — they've got me. The only thing that matters now is keeping Bella safe.

"The tipster was able to get the license plate number of the vehicle, and we traced the truck to this address," he explains. "They also noted a female passenger."

"I was riding in the truck on Monday, yes. But I was with my dad," she lies. _Nice one, Pollyanna._

"Your dad?"

"Yes. Chief Charles Swan from the Forks police department. He—he was visiting me."

"Is your father here now?" another voice asks.

"No, he's not here. He was just visiting on Monday, like I said."

"Then why are there two plates on your kitchen table?"

Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck!

"Ma'am?" Officer Embry prompts her.

"My boyfriend was having breakfast with me," she replies quietly.

"Where is he now?"

"At work."

"As I said before, we have a search warrant. If what you say is true, then you shouldn't have any problem with us looking around your home."

_Come on, Cullen._ I need a fucking plan. I'm _never_ one for plans.

Well, Plan A is obviously to get out of this without getting caught. Going out the window is probably a bad idea. If I can't close the window fully from outside, it will almost certainly make them suspicious, and with the rain, my footprints in the muddy yard would provide an obvious trail.

They're probably going to check the closet first. With the way the closet doors swing out, I might be able to slip out of the bedroom unnoticed and make it to the bathroom. I don't see a better way out than that.

But what if they find me? The only thing that matters then is keeping Bella from being arrested as an accessory. They can't know that she let me stay here willingly.

I feel the weight of the gun in my hand and know it's my best asset right now. At least the _thought_ of it. I don't want to risk the gun going off accidentally and hurting someone. Hurting Bella. I can't do anything that would put her in jeopardy.

With shaking fingers, I open the chamber and pull out the bullets. I carefully kneel down, leaving them on the floor here behind the door. And then I wait for my chance.

"I don't see anything outside," a muffled voice calls. "Clear in the bathroom," the voice of Officer Embry states. "Get out of the way, Ma'am."

The footsteps come closer as the men step into the bedroom. I hold my breath, praying they don't check behind the bedroom door before I have a chance to try and slip out.

I see the closet door swing open, further hiding me from the officers' line of sight. This is it, my one chance for Plan A to work. I carefully slip out from behind the bedroom door, keeping the closet door between me and the cop who's digging through the closet. As I tiptoe backwards out of the bedroom, I see one of the cops across the room, looking out the window on the opposite wall.

When I reach the living room, I pass by where Bella is standing, still keeping my eyes on the bedroom doorway. She inhales sharply and I glance over at her, seeing her slap her hand over her mouth. _Stay calm, baby._

"Stop right there, Mr. Cullen." One of the cops appears suddenly in the bedroom doorway, his gun pointed at me.

_Oh fuck. _Time for Plan B…

I take a half-step forward, throwing my left arm around Bella's waist and dragging her backwards into my chest. She gasps as I press the barrel of the gun into her right temple.

"Don't come any closer," I warn. "Or I'll kill her." She yelps at my words. Good girl, play your part. She has to know I'd never threaten her for real.

"Don't make this any harder on yourself, Mr. Cullen." The other two officers are now flanking the first, all of their guns pointed at us.

"Ed—Edward," she stutters. I tighten my arm around her, pulling her back a little more, further away from the three men and their guns.

"Let her go."

A fucking baby-faced cop raises his gun a little higher and she yelps again. She's breathing heavily, almost like one of her fucking panic attacks. I'm suddenly not so sure she's playing a part.

"Lower your gun. Don't test me right now," I say roughly. "I'm not rotting in prison for a crime I didn't commit."

"You were found guilty in a court of law, Mr. Cullen," the older cop sneers.

"I'm. Not. Guilty."

Bella reaches up with her right hand, lightly caressing my arm around her stomach. Her touch feels fucking good, but I don't need her tenderness right now. She's supposed to be afraid of me!

"Put your gun down and give yourself up, Mr. Cullen — before there are more charges added to your rap sheet."

"I'm not fucking surrendering," I yell. They need to believe I'm violent, that I threatened her into helping me.

The three cops seem to be having some sort of conversation with their eyes, then two of them step away from the middle one, fanning them out somewhat. They look like they're going to try to surround us or something.

"Let me talk to him!" Bella shouts suddenly. "Drop your guns a minute and let me talk to him. Please," she begs. I can hear the tears in her voice.

After another silent conversation, the older cop nods and I feel Bella struggling to move within my grip. "Let me go a little," she whispers. I loosen my hold and she spins around. I point the gun directly at the three cops instead of Bella, my eyes darting back and forth from her to them.

She twines her arms around my neck, her thumbs drawing small circles on my neck while her fingers play with the hair at the nape of my neck.

"You need to give up, Edward," she whispers. I shake my head, pleading with her to go along with my plan. She's ruining it by being so fucking… nice to me.

"Your lawyer is going to get you a new trial. You won't have to be in prison for long. Please, just give up before someone gets hurt. I can't… I can't take it if they hurt you," she sobs.

I stare back at her helplessly. I can't stop a traitor tear from falling, knowing that the minute I give up, she'll be ripped out of my arms. And I don't know when I'll be able to hold her again.

"Give me your gun, Edward. It's gonna be ok. Just give me the gun."

Breathing heavily, I relax my hold on the gun, pointing it toward the floor. Bella steps back a little, holding her hand out to me, and I carefully place the gun on her palm.

"Thank you," she whispers, tightening her hold on it.

I see her start to lean up toward my lips when I reluctantly stop her. "Don't," I tell her in a low voice, shaking my head minutely.

Bella's eyes widen in shock. Come on, baby, you _know_ why I'm doing this. She nods slightly then turns around. Two of the cops immediately move toward us. The older one tucks his gun back into the holster, grabbing my arms roughly and pulling them behind me, slapping on a pair of fucking handcuffs.

"Don't be so rough with him," Bella shouts. I see the dark-haired cop take the gun from her hand, placing it into a plastic bag that he's pulled from his pocket. He stays behind with my Bella while the other two drag me out of the house. I almost lose it when I hear her sobbing.

"Get in," the older cop growls when we reach the police cruiser parked in front of the house. Ducking to avoid hitting my head, I crawl into the backseat and the baby-faced cop slams the door.

I turn around in my seat, watching Bella's house through the back window until it's out of sight. Turning back around, I take a deep breath and stare down at my lap. I won't fucking cry.

The older cop is driving, and the younger one is on the police radio, letting the station know that they've got me. I hear him ask them to have someone from the prison meet us at the precinct.

When we pull up in front of the station after just a few minutes, the older cop comes around to the passenger side, helping me out of the car. He's got a tight grip on my arm as we walk inside. I ignore the stares of everyone standing in the hallway as he leads me to a small interrogation room.

"Have a seat," he says, nodding toward the uncomfortable-looking plastic chair.

"I think I'll stand."

"Have a seat," he repeats, shoving me toward the chair. This time I do it.

He walks around the table, pulling out the chair on the opposite side. "I'm Sergeant Aaron. You've cost us a lot of money looking for you over the last two weeks, only to find that you've been right under our noses all along."

I stare down at the table, remaining silent.

"So how did you talk Mrs. Black into letting you stay?" he asks curiously.

I grit my teeth. I want to defend Bella, but I'm not sure I should say anything right now.

"Mr. Cullen?" he prompts.

"I'm not saying a word without my lawyer."

"Fair enough," he nods, standing up. "Then you'll sit here until the prison guards arrive."

Sergeant Aaron walks out of the room, leaving me alone. Well, not really alone, as I'm sure they're watching me through the one-way glass. I want to run my hands through my hair, but they're still cuffed together behind me.

I'm so pissed at myself for getting caught. I know it's all my fault — I'm the one who wanted to go out for a fucking burger on Monday. Bella was right to be so paranoid. God, Bella… Now I've dragged her into my mess of a life. What if she's charged as an accessory for hiding me? They'll never hear that from me, but that doesn't mean no one will find out that she willingly let me stay.

After a few minutes, the Sergeant walks back into the room, accompanied by two guards from Stafford Creek. "Well, Mr. Cullen," one of them says, "You've kept us waiting."

"Let's go," the other one says, and I stand up from the table.

"You're not done with us yet, Mr. Cullen," Sergeant Aaron says. "Once you've got legal representation, someone from the Aberdeen police department will stop by to get a statement from you."

I nod, letting the two guards lead me from the room, through the hallway and out to the prison van in the parking lot. They help me into the back, then one of them releases my left hand from the handcuffs and shackles my right hand to the arm rest. My free hand goes straight to my hair.

Several minutes later, we are parked in front of the prison. "I wouldn't make any smart moves if I were you, Cullen," one of the guards says as he unlocks me from the arm rest, again cuffing my hands together behind me.

The guards lead me to a small room with a shower where two more guards are waiting for us. One of them is holding an orange jumpsuit — oh joy. The guard who's been handling my cuffs removes them and I immediately start rubbing at my sore wrists.

"Strip off your clothes, Mr. Cullen."

With a sigh, I tug my long-sleeved shirt over my head. I slip my feet out of my shoes and begin working the fly of my jeans.

"Boxers, too."

Sighing, I remove my boxers as well, leaving them on top of the pile of clothes on the floor. I fucking hate standing here naked, while they circle around me looking for weapons or other contraband.

"This looks like a fresh scar," the guard notes, rubbing his thumb over the wound on my stomach. "Were you shot in your escape attempt? I know the guard fired two rounds at you."

"Answer me," he growls when I remain silent.

"Yes, I was shot when I ran off," I admit quietly.

"Step in the shower."

I walk over to the open shower stall, turn the lever, then stand back until the water heats up. As I shower, I realize that I'm washing Bella's scent off of me. _Fuck._

As I step out of the shower, the guard hands me a towel to dry off. He then shoves my boxers and the orange jumpsuit at my stomach. "Put this on and then you'll be making a trip to the prison doctor."

I quickly comply and once I'm buttoned up, my hands are cuffed together again. I'm led to the infirmary and then placed in a room while the guards talk to the doctor. I take a seat on the examining table while I wait for him.

"Ah, Mr. Cullen, welcome to Stafford Creek," the doctor says as he steps into the room. I raise my eyebrow in response and he laughs. "I'm Dr. Gerandy. I need to remove the handcuffs so I can take a look. I trust you'll behave?"

"I'll behave," I mumble. Once my hands are free, I unbutton the top of the jumpsuit and slide it off my shoulders.

The doctor prods at the wound on my stomach — which no longer hurts, thank God — then turns me slightly so he can look at my back.

"Someone stitched you up," he notes. "Did you see a doctor?" I don't answer. "Mr. Cullen," he says sharply, "I need to know what I'm dealing with so that I can treat you properly. Nothing you say will leave this room. Now, did you see a doctor for your gunshot wound?"

"No doctor," I reply with a sigh.

"But someone who's familiar with stitches. A nurse, perhaps?"

"A vet," I admit.

"A veterinarian treated you?" I nod. "I see the bullet was through and through. Were there any issues with the wound? Complications?"

"It was infected. She gave me antibiotics and put some sort of ointment on it."

"All right. I'll need to make sure the infection is completely gone then," Dr. Gerandy says. He reaches onto a shelf, pulling off a small cup. After writing something on the label he hands it to me, then points toward a door. "I'll need a urine sample. The bathroom is over there. While you're in there, I'll prep to take some blood from you."

With a sigh, I hop off the table and step into the bathroom. I pee in the cup, then put the lid on it and wash my hands in the sink before coming back out.

"Thank you," the doctor says, taking the cup from me. "As you know, you were tested for various contagious diseases during your time at the Washington Corrections Center. We need to make sure you haven't contracted anything in the last two weeks."

"I haven't."

"I need to make sure," he reiterates, wiping an alcohol-soaked cotton ball on my arm. I stare into space as the doctor draws a blood sample, just wanting this to be fucking over with. "You're all done," he states, holding another cotton ball over the wound. "You can get dressed now," he says once my arm is bandaged.

The doctor knocks on the door and the guard who was waiting outside steps into the room. "It'll be 24 hours or so until his test results come back," Dr. Gerandy says. "In the meantime, he'll need to stay away from the general population."

"Come on, Mr. Cullen," the guard says after he replaces my handcuffs.

I'm led through the hallways to the solitary confinement wing — fucking solitary! The guard opens the cell door, motioning for me to go inside, then closes it behind me. He opens the small window in the door, and I place my hands in it for him to unlock my cuffs.

"You've missed lunch, but I'll see if the kitchen can send something down for you," he says. "Otherwise it's a few hours until dinnertime."

I nod, sitting on the small cot and burying my face in my hands. This is really happening.

A few minutes later, a guard places a tray in the window. The sandwich looks like some sort of mystery meat, with one piece of lettuce on top. Ooh, and a bag of baked chips — healthy.

I force the nasty sandwich down my throat then lie back on the cot. My mind immediately goes to Bella. God, I hope she's ok, I hope I did enough to convince the cops that she was my prisoner. If she goes to jail because of me… I shake my head. I can't even think about that.

It's only been a couple of hours since I left her and I'm already missing her. I miss the feel of her soft skin, her lips… I've never felt like this about a woman before. They're more or less interchangeable to me, but she's different. I want… more with her. I know she was just lying to save her own ass earlier when she told the cops she'd had breakfast with her boyfriend, but I liked the sound of that. I _like_ the idea of being her boyfriend.

Being apart from Bella is going to be the worst thing about being locked up. If she is able to get out of this without being charged, will she come visit me? Or will she be so pissed off that I nearly got her in trouble that she'll want nothing more to do with me? Will she wait for me until I get out? Do I want her to? I want Bella to go back to Seattle, to start living her life again. But if the cell phone records are enough to get me a new trial, I could be out in a few months. Can she wait that long? Does she want me at all?

Fuck… my head is spinning thinking about this. And the more I think about Bella, the more I miss her. Closing my eyes, I just try to survive the afternoon.

* * *

**A/N: **If you haven't guessed, this story is going to diverge from "Reason For Living" for a while. Most of the next few chapters are all new. Also, there will often by one Edward chapter per 2-3 of Bella's.


	15. Chapter 15

**Author's Note: **Thanks again to moosals for pre-reading. Stephenie Meyer owns all characters.

This is the last chapter that's a 1-to-1 match with Bella's version. It's all new material. I also updated on Monday for those who may have missed it.

**Sorry FFn wouldn't let me update before I left for work!**

* * *

_Thursday, September 27, 2012_

"Cullen!"

I sit up, my fingers massaging the kink in my neck. After my fourth shitty meal in a row, I'd tried to take a nap, given that I only slept in short bursts all night long. Besides how fucking uncomfortable this cot is, I miss sleeping next to Bella. I miss her warmth beside me.

"Cullen!" the guard calls again. "Dr. Gerandy says you can go to your cell now. Put your hands up here to get cuffed."

Fucking finally. I let the guard put the cuffs on me, then stand back while he opens the door. He leads me out of the solitary wing to where the rest of the prisoners are housed. Walking about halfway down the block, he stops me in front of a cell and unlocks it, motioning for me to go inside. Once the cuffs are off, I look over at my new cellmate, a thin tanned-skin man with black hair sitting in the corner of the bottom bunk.

"Uh… you can have this bunk if you want," he says nervously. "I can go up top."

I shake my head. "I prefer the top bunk."

"O—ok." The guy swallows hard, staring at his feet. He barely looks old enough to be in here. "I saw your escape. That was rad, dude." Rad?

I look at him a little closer and I think I remember this guy now: he was on the prison bus with me. "What's your name?" I ask.

"Um, Seth. Seth Clearwater. And you're Edward Cullen," he says, sounding like he's talking about a fucking Hollywood star.

"Yeah," I nod. "What're you in for?"

"Drugs," he answers immediately. "I sold to a fucking undercover cop."

I nod. "User or just a dealer?"

"Sold to support my habit," he shrugs. "Been cold turkey for about six weeks now."

"What's got you in Medium? Shouldn't you be in Disneyland?" I ask curiously.

"Ah… I may have punched a guard or two up in Shelton when I was going through withdrawals. Got labeled as violent." He shrugs again and I want to laugh. This guy looks like he couldn't hurt a fly.

"So… you killed a woman during a robbery," he says.

I look around outside the cell for anyone out there, then take a seat on the cot next to Seth. "I didn't kill anyone," I confess in a low voice. "They got the wrong guy. But as long as the rest of the goofs around this place think I did, you and I are safe from their bullshit. Got it?"

"Got it," he answers, wide-eyed and nodding.

"So what do you do for fun around here?" I ask, standing up again.

"Um, we should get free time out in the yard pretty soon," Seth replies. "I usually try to shoot some hoops."

"Sounds good," I nod. "We need to hit the gym as soon as they let us — bulk you up."

* * *

After another horrible night's sleep, I head down to the cafeteria for a fucking awful breakfast on Friday morning. A couple of hours later, a guard lets me know that my lawyer has arrived. I'm led out of my cell to a small private room where we can talk.

"Edward," Mr. Marks greets me, his hand out. I shake his hand briefly then sit down at the table. "You don't make my job easy, do you?" he says dryly.

I smirk in response.

"Was it worth it?" he asks.

"Definitely."

"We have 20 minutes or so to chat before someone from the Aberdeen police force will be here. Why don't we start with whatever possessed you to try to escape."

"The opportunity presented itself," I reply with a shrug.

"Yes, well… we need to work on your impulse control," he retorts. "Rumor has it you were found at the home of a Mrs. Isabella Black, just outside Aberdeen. Is that where you spent the entire two weeks?"

"We're free to talk in here, right?" I question. I don't want to find out later that there are microphones in here or something.

"Yes, it's fine," he confirms.

"I was there for the entire two weeks, yeah. I smelled the smoke from her fireplace and it led me right to her house.

"Do you… do you know if Bella was arrested?" I ask, holding my breath.

"To the best of my knowledge, she has not been arrested, but I believe they have questioned her," Mr. Marks replies. _Oh fuck._ There's no way my Pollyanna didn't tell the truth.

"Wasn't she your hostage?" he continues. "Or has she done something for which she _should_ be arrested?"

"If you're asking if I held her at gunpoint for two weeks, no, I didn't. She had the opportunity to turn me in, but she didn't. Can you try to find out if they arrest her?"

"I'll see what I can do," he nods.

"Bella is the one who realized about the cell phone records, you know."

He narrows his eyes. "And why didn't I know that there were any phone calls between you and Ms. Weber?"

"I—I know it's my fault. I didn't tell you exactly what happened. I realize now that I probably implied that we went to her house from the bar," I tell him sheepishly.

"Tell me now," he orders, taking a notebook out of his briefcase.

I sigh, running my hands through my hair. "The night I met Angela at the bar, she wanted to trade phone numbers. She gave me her number and I called her so she'd have mine."

"When was this?" he asks, looking up at me from where he's taking notes. "I don't recall you ever being specific."

"It was…" God, I was so drunk that night. I think hard, trying to remember the date for him. I know Garrett was already higher than a kite when I got there… because I was late. A-ha!

"It was the day before the Super Bowl. I remember that I worked until closing that night, so I'd be able to take off for the game the next day. So it was pretty late when I met my buddy Garrett at the bar that night." I'm fucking proud of myself for remembering.

"All right," he nods. "I'll have to look up the date of the Super Bowl — unless you remember?"

"No, I don't," I reply, shaking my head. I fucking hate numbers.

"Tell me about your visits to the Weber home. I want every insignificant little detail you may have left out when we talked earlier."

"Angela called me the first time a little over a week after we met… Monday. It was definitely Monday, because the restaurant is closed on Mondays and I wasn't working that night. She asked if I wanted to get together at her house.

"When I got there, she acted like we were on a fucking date or something. She ordered a pizza and we hung out in the kitchen eating it, then she tried to get me to watch a movie in the family room. I asked to see her bedroom, and the rest is history," I finish with a grimace. I'm almost fucking _ashamed_ of my old behavior. I wish I'd never slept with that chick.

"If I remember correctly, you said you were in the home twice?"

"Yeah," I nod. "She called again a little over a week later. Thursday, maybe? I'm not one-hundred percent sure. Anyway, I was working that night, so I couldn't come over until after I got off work."

"Did you go straight to her room that time?" he asks.

"No," I reply, shaking my head. "We hung out in the kitchen for a little bit after she gave me one of her dad's beers from the fridge."

"Got it," he says suddenly, holding up his iPhone. "The Super Bowl was played on February 5 and the murder occurred February 26. By what you've said, the first phone call to you should've been Monday, February 13, with the second around the 23rd, just three days before the murder. Once we can prove that, it shouldn't be a stretch to believe that some of your fingerprints would still be visible in the kitchen on the day of the murder."

"Do you think you'll be able to get the cell phone records?"

"In order for them to be admissible in court, they need to be obtained via subpoena. Now that I have enough background to explain why I need them — and a client whose whereabouts are known — I should have more luck in obtaining a subpoena. I _will_ get them, Edward."

"And they should be enough to win me a new trial, right?" I ask anxiously.

"They certainly make a very compelling argument, proving that one of the key witnesses against you lied. My law partner, Jane, is currently looking through documentation on previous cases to help with our argument."

"That's not a yes," I note.

"I'm a lawyer," he replies with a grin. "That's as close to a yes as I get."

I roll my eyes. "So… what do I say to the police? I don't want to get Bella in any trouble."

"I strongly advise you to tell the truth, Edward."

"But the truth is, she wasn't my hostage! And that could get her arrested," I emphasize. Bella cannot get in trouble for helping me. She can't.

"Will the police be able to find any evidence that she could've turned you in?"

"She made a couple trips to Walmart without me," I confess quietly.

"And you don't think the police will find that?"

"Not if they're as fucking incompetent as the ones in Seattle," I grumble.

"Lying will just make things worse for you," he points out. "You're already facing charges related to your escape and assaulting a guard. You don't want to 'confess' that you held a woman hostage for two weeks."

"But—"

"Tell the truth, Edward. Spin it however you want, but tell the truth."

We sit staring at each other, at a bit of an impasse, before there's a hard knock on the door. A guard appears in the doorway, ushering in the dark-haired cop who was at Bella's house. I get up, moving to sit next to my lawyer, while the cop takes the other side of the table.

"I'm Officer Paul Embry, in case you don't remember. I need to ask you some questions about your escape and where you were hiding for two weeks. I've already spoken to Mrs. Black to get her side of the story," he adds. _Fuck._

"First, why don't you start by telling me how you ended up at Mrs. Black's house," Officer Embry begins.

"As I was running through the woods, I smelled the smoke from her fireplace and ran toward it."

"And then what?"

"I knocked," I shrugged. Does he think I broke down the fucking door?

"And she just let you in?" he asks, one eyebrow raised.

"Well, obviously she didn't look to see who it was before opening the door," I snark.

"And then what happened?" he sighs.

"I told her if she helped me with the handcuffs and found me some clothes, I wouldn't hurt her," I answer, trying to make him understand that Bella wouldn't have felt like she had a choice but to help me — at first.

"Continue."

"I Googled how to remove the handcuffs and found out we needed bobby pins, but Bella didn't have any. She said she'd get them and the clothes on her trip to Walmart in the morning."

"You had a gun, Mr. Cullen. Why not force Mrs. Black to go right then so you could leave?"

"Bella has PTSD after her husband died in a car accident. She can't drive, so she needed to wait for someone to drive her to the store."

"What about the truck that you were spotted in this week?" he asks. "Why couldn't _you_ drive it that night?"

"I didn't know it was parked behind the house until I saw it a few days later," I explain. I don't know why Bella didn't suggest it that night — maybe she just wasn't thinking straight?

"I see," he replies, nodding his head. "I assume Mrs. Black is the one who fixed up your gunshot wound."

Mr. Marks gasps and I realize I forgot to mention that little detail to him.

"What—what makes you think I was shot?" _Fuck._

"The C.O. confirmed it for me when I arrived here today. We knew that the guard shot at you twice when you escaped, and one of the bullets was found lodged in a tree with traces of blood on it. We'd alerted all of the local hospitals to be on the lookout for you."

"She fixed me up," I confirm in a whisper, feeling like I'm damning her to the gallows. "Bella has PTSD, like I said. She feels like her husband's death was her fault, because she was driving. The guilt is killing her… she couldn't let me die and have that on her conscience, too."

"Why didn't you try to leave her home once you were able?" he asks curiously.

"Because I saw the newspaper, I knew I was the top story… I'd never have been able to leave without being caught."

"How long were you planning to stay with her?"

I shrug. "Until I came up with a plan, I guess. My lawyer here has been working on getting me a new trial since I was convicted, so obviously I'd have to turn myself in before I could be tried again."

"How many times did you leave the house in Mrs. Black's truck?"

I think about lying, but I have no idea what Bella told him. And I'm sure the police could find evidence for all of our trips if they tried.

"Three times," I admit. "We went out to get me a razor and stuff once my wound was better. And she'd only bought me t-shirts at Walmart, so I needed something with long sleeves."

"What about the men's clothing in her closet?"

I chuckle, remembering Bella's reaction on the day I put on Jacob's clothes. "I put some of that on and she _freaked_."

"Freaked?"

"Yeah, she had, like, a fucking panic attack at the thought of me in her husband's clothes. I told you — Bella has mental issues."

"Aren't you lucky," the cop says sarcastically, "Landing at the home of someone with 'mental issues' who could be easily swayed into helping you." I just shrug in response and let him think I took advantage of her.

"What happened the second time you went out in the truck?" he asks when he realizes I'm not going to answer. "I know the third time was on Monday."

"We went to Olympia," I admit. "I was trying to get her to loosen up and have some fun after she told me about her husband."

"And what did you do in Olympia?"

"Well, I didn't rob a fucking bank!" I yell, rolling my eyes. "We went to a farmers market, and a movie… went to a bar where I tried to teach her to play pool," I chuckle.

"You took Mrs. Black on a _date_ to Olympia," he says dryly. "While you're a wanted man."

I shrug. "I figured we were far enough away that no one would recognize me."

Officer Embry sighs, frowning at me.

"Look," I begin, "Bella… she believes in my innocence. She's a good person… the best. What she needs now is to get treatment for her PTSD, not—not prison time for not turning me in. Please, just… let her go."

"You really care about her," he observes. "I suspected as much when Officer Newton told me he found the bullets behind the door, but…"

"Of course I care about her!" I shout. "I lo—" _Fuck._ "I love her," I whisper, squeezing my eyes closed. "I love her. I told you, she's good, she's better than I'll ever deserve," I add, my voice cracking. "I couldn't take the chance of hurting her." I'd rather die myself than hurt her.

"Mrs. Black is a cop's daughter — obviously she knew it was against the law to help you."

"You aren't listening to me," I stress. "She's not well. To her, doing the right thing was not adding more to her guilty conscience by turning in an innocent man.

"I'm not guilty of the crime I was convicted of. I'm not a killer. I just wanted to hide out with Bella until I needed to come back for a new trial… I wasn't planning to hurt anyone or cause any trouble. Don't punish her for believing in me."

"The D.A. is the one who'll be making that decision."

I sigh, closing my eyes and running my hands through my hair. "Are we done here?" I ask quietly. I just want to go lie down. My head is fucking spinning.

"We're done," he confirms, standing up from the table.

After my lawyer says goodbye, the guard leads me back to my cell.

"Hey, man, how did it go?" Seth asks once we're alone.

"I don't want to talk about it," I mutter, climbing up to my bunk. I lie back, staring up at the ceiling. My mind immediately goes to my earlier revelation: I love Bella. I'm _in love_ with Bella.

Now what the fuck am I going to do?

* * *

**A/N: **Cheeky bought a clue and realized he's in love with Bella!

Just an FYI in case anyone forgot… the second half of Bella's chapter takes place after lunch on Friday, whereas this one is Friday morning.


	16. October

**Author's Note: **Thanks again to moosals for pre-reading. Stephenie Meyer owns all characters.

The second all-new chapter! This one covers the entire month of October. The equivalent Bella chapters in "Reason For Living" are 16-19.

* * *

_Monday, October 1, 2012_

"Cullen! You have a visitor," the guard calls on Monday afternoon.

My first thought is of Bella, but then I remember the fucking approved visitor list. She's not on it, so she can't be here. It's only been five days since I've seen her, since I've touched her, but it feels more like five _years_.

The guard leads me to the visit room, removing my cuffs once I step inside. I look up to see Mom walking toward me, looking like she's trying hard not to cry.

"Mom…" I call just as she envelops me in her strong arms.

"Edward, oh my God," she sobs, hugging me tightly.

"I'm fine, Mom. I'm fine," I tell her, patting her back.

Finally she pulls back, smiling at me as she wipes a few tears away. "You look good," she says, sounding surprised. I shrug.

"Mrs. Cullen?" I look toward the voice, seeing one of the guards looking at her expectantly.

"Oh, yes," she begins. "Edward, would you like Ms. Black added to your approved visitor list?"

My eyes widen. "Bella? You've talked to Bella?" Then I register the question she asked. "Of course she can be on the list."

"All right, I'll let them know," the guard says, turning toward the door.

I lead Mom to a table to sit. "You've talked to Bella?" I ask again.

"Yes, she—she's here, at the front desk."

"Bella's _here_?" Does that mean she's ok?

"Yes," she nods. "She messaged me her phone number, asking me to call her. She had wanted to come see you today, but I told her she wouldn't be able to see you without being on the list. I brought her along with me so she could fill out the paperwork."

"She's ok?" I hold my breath waiting for the answer.

"Yes, she's fine, Edward," Mom assures me, patting my hand.

"She hasn't been arrested?" I clarify.

"No, Edward, she's _fine_. Bella said that her father convinced the D.A. not to press charges." Her _father_ knows? Oh fuck, I'm sure he's just waiting for the chance to string me up by the balls.

And then the second half of that statement sinks in… the D.A. isn't pressing charges. Bella is safe; she's not in trouble for hiding me.

"She's not in trouble?" I whisper, still hardly able to believe it.

"No, Edward," my mom says again, squeezing my hand. Tears prick at my eyes as the relief settles in every cell in my body. I bury my face in my hands, taking a couple of deep breaths. Bella's fine… I don't have to worry about her going to jail for me. I can worry about my own ass.

"Bella had a message for you," Mom says quietly.

I lift my head. "She did?"

"Yes," she replies with a small smile. "She wanted me to tell you to 'be safe'."

"I always am," I snort.

"Yeah, right," Mom replies sarcastically. "What on earth were you _thinking_ to escape on your way to prison?" _Fuck_, Mom sounds pissed.

"You know me, Mom," I plead. "I wasn't exactly thinking. It was more spur-of-the-moment," I shrug.

Mom eyes me the way she would when I was a child and had done something wrong. "You probably scared the daylights out of that poor girl, showing up at her house."

"I never threatened her," I insist. "I'm not the bad guy."

"Bella told me that she believes in your innocence."

"Yeah," I smile. "She's the best person I've ever met, next to you."

Mom raises one eyebrow, staring at me. I fidget under her gaze. "Bella wanted to see me?" I whisper. Does that mean she doesn't hate me?

"Yes," Mom nods. "She's probably filling out the paperwork now to be added to your approved visitor list… as long as they approve her, of course.'

Fuck! What if the fact that Bella helped me hide from the police means she won't be allowed to see me? But if she's not under arrest for it…

"Do you think they'll let her come see me?"

"I don't know. I hope so — for both of your sakes."

"I miss her," I confess quietly. I only knew Bella for two weeks, but it's like she's become a part of me. And not just because she let me fuck her.

"I think she misses you, too," Mom confirms, patting my hand again. "Bella is… not the type of woman you usually hang around with."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I ask indignantly.

"I think you know, Edward." And I do… Bella is nothing like the "loose" women that I typically go for.

"She's different, Mom," I whisper. "She's had some bad things happen to her, but she has such a pure heart." My voice cracks on the last word. Bella has all of my heart… but do I have hers?

"Do you have a message for her?"

I smile, thinking of trying to make her blush. But I can't tell my _mom_ something like that. "Tell her… tell her she'd better keep her promise."

Mom looks confused for a moment, but then she nods.

I'm barely paying attention as Mom launches into a monologue about her job, about Dad, about Emmett and how his team is doing this year… about his wedding plans. I'm still thinking about Bella, wondering if she'll be approved, and if so, when I can see her, when I can touch her.

"I think our time is almost up," Mom says, checking her watch. "Is there anything you need?"

I shrug. "Just enough money in my account for personal items and stuff. Oh, and they charge seven dollars every three months to use the weight room."

"I'll make sure you have enough," she nods.

"Also, Mr. Marks subpoenaed the cell phone records as soon as he got back from talking to you last Friday. Just hang on, Edward. He'll have the records soon and finalize his request for a new trial. We _will_ get you out of here."

"Thanks, Mom. When do you think you'll be able to come back?" When can I see Bella?

"I'll try for every two weeks… is that all right?"

I nod. "And you'll bring Bella if she's approved?"

"I'll bring Bella."

Just then, a guard walks over to let us know our time is up. We stand and Mom throws her arms around me again. "I echo Bella's request," she says. "Be safe."

"I will," I promise. "I'll see you in two weeks."

* * *

_Monday, October 15, 2012_

"Cullen!"

I quickly climb down from my bunk, sticking my hands through the bars to let the guard cuff me. I don't think I've ever been so excited to go to the visit room before.

Of course, I don't know for certain that Bella has been approved as a visitor, but I've convinced myself that she has been. I don't want to look _too_ eager though. No point in letting anyone see your weakness.

I stare at the floor as the guard leads me into the visit room. Once the door closes behind me, the guard unlocks the handcuffs, pulling them off. Promising myself that I'll live if I don't see her, I put my head up, looking around the room.

And then I spot Bella, sitting at a table by herself. She's so beautiful — she takes my breath away. I have to will my needy cock to stand down. I wink at her to let her know that I see her.

Bella jumps up from her seat, taking a couple of careful steps in my direction before launching herself at me, throwing her arms around my waist. I wind my arms around her, holding her tightly. _God, she feels good._ I never really held her all _that_ much during those two weeks we were together, but right now, I don't ever want to let her go.

"Ed—Edward," she sobs.

"Shhh… it's ok, baby. I'm ok," I try to soothe her, hugging her tighter while my hands rub up and down her back. Everything is ok now that she's in my arms.

I press my lips briefly to the top of her head then pull back slightly. She looks up at me with those big brown eyes, no longer as sad as they were the day I met her. I can't help smiling at her as I brush her tears away with a finger.

"Let's sit down, ok?" I suggest. I'd really like to just stand here holding her for the entire time, but I know the guards won't allow it.

Nodding, Bella releases her death grip on me and retakes her seat. I sit beside her, immediately grabbing for her hand. I need to be touching her, even if it's just her hand.

"Did ya miss me?" I ask with a grin, trying to make her smile.

Bella laughs, brown eyes sparkling. "I don't know whether to kiss you or slap you!"

"Slap me, huh? Kinky," I reply with a wink, but she just stares at me. "Why would you slap me?" I finally ask. Fuck, is she pissed at me for something? Why would she be pissed if she hasn't been arrested?

"You held a gun to my head, Edward," she whisper-yells.

"It wasn't loaded."

"I didn't know that at the time!"

"Baby, did you really believe I would risk something like that?" I ask, squeezing her hand. Surely she knows I could never risk hurting her.

"I didn't know what to believe," she replies. "What were you _thinking_?"

I shrug. "Well, I was hoping I'd be able to sneak out of the bedroom and hide in the bathroom. And then I just panicked."

"Did you think they'd somehow let you go if you threatened my life?" she asks curiously.

"No, not really. But I didn't want you to go down with me. I had to try and make them think you had no choice except to help me," I explain.

"You were trying to protect me? _That's_ why you wouldn't let me kiss you?"

"Of course it is!" How could she possible think otherwise? Was the way I wanted her non-stop not enough of a clue?

"It didn't work."

"What do you mean?"

"One of the cops saw the hickey you gave me that morning."

"Oops," I grin, lifting her hair off of her left shoulder so I can see the mark. "It's gone now," I add with a pout.

Bella glares at me. _Now_ why is she pissed? I rub my thumb along her knuckles, trying to smooth things over.

"But you're ok, right?" I ask. "Mom said last time that they didn't press charges."

"No, they didn't."

"That's good. I couldn't deal with it if something happened to you because of me."

Bella stares down at our joined hands as I play with her fingers. I think about telling her about my… feelings for her, but I'm not sure I can say the words. I've never said them before. And I'm afraid of how she'll react. What if she says she could never love me back?

"So what happened after I left?" I ask instead. Yes, I'm a fucking wuss.

"Officer Embry took me down to the station to ask me some questions. Then he said he had to wait for the D.A. to get back to decide if they were going to press charges."

"What made them decide not to?"

"I, um, called my dad, and he talked to the D.A. and his buddy on the Aberdeen force. They all showed up at my house on Friday to ask me a few more questions. They wanted to know why I helped you, of course."

"What did you tell them?" I ask curiously. I wonder if Bella had already confessed before I had to tell them of her role.

"The truth — that I couldn't end someone else's life."

"Isabella," I warn. I hate that she still isn't past the guilt.

"I know—"

"Did you find a therapist yet?" I interrupt.

"No," she answers quietly. "How would I get to an appointment?"

"Mrs. Cope?" I suggest.

She shakes her head. "No, Edward. I can't impose on her more than I already do."

"You promised me, Isabella," I remind her. "You're lucky I can't turn you over my knee." I'm not exactly turned on by spanking women… but I wouldn't mind it if she's game.

"What?!"

I can't help laughing at the horrified expression on her face. I guess there will be no spanking. "You should see your face right now."

"My dad wanted me to go home to Forks with him and start therapy," she says, changing the subject.

"So why didn't you? Maybe it's a good idea."

"But you're _here_! How would I get back to see you?"

I roll my eyes. "So go back to Seattle and find a therapist. You could get a ride to the prison with Mom the same way you do now."

Bella's eyes widen as she stares at me. "Do you think I could really do that?" she finally whispers.

"Bella," I begin, squeezing her hand, "You are stronger than you realize. I believe in you. You need to move forward and live again. I'm sure Mom would be happy to let you come with her when she visits."

"Is that… is that what you want? I mean, you want me to come back to see you?"

"Of course I do," I reply, totally thrown by her question. "Why would you even question that?"

"Because…"

"Because why?" I prompt, lifting her chin with my finger until she's looking me in the eye. How could she not know what she means to me? Do I need to tell her to make her see? Fuck, I don't know how! But I'll try to find the words, for her.

"Mr. Cullen." A guard's voice interrupts. "Your next visitor?" Saved by the proverbial bell.

I look up and see Mom waiting by the door next to the guard. Bella stands up to leave, and I quickly stand as well, not wanting to be separated from her just yet.

"I'll see you in two weeks?" she asks quietly.

I nod, holding my arms open. Bella steps into my embrace, snuggling close to me, but it's not enough. Not enough to last me for two weeks.

I grasp her chin with one hand until she's looking up at me, then touch my lips to hers. _Fuck_, I have missed this. As Bella returns my kiss, I deepen it, tenderly holding her face in both of my hands, kissing her until I get my fill.

That's a lie. I'll never have enough of her. But I know I'm crossing way over the line of what's allowed in here, so I reluctantly pull away. I place one more soft, chaste kiss on her lips, before leaning my forehead against hers. "Take care of yourself, ok baby?"

"You too," she whispers.

"I'll be fine, Bella. Don't worry about me. But I don't want any more excuses on why you haven't gotten help."

I smile when I feel her nod. "Pet Leo for me, all right?" I add with a grin as I pull away.

Bella unwraps her arms from around me and I give her hand a final squeeze. The moment I'm no longer touching her, I feel… empty.

I watch as she makes her way to the door, passing by where Mom is standing.

I continue watching as Bella stands near the door while Mom hugs me briefly before moving to sit down.

I'm still watching the doorway as the guard escorts Bella out of the room.

Once the door closes behind her, I look over at Mom to see her staring at me, one eyebrow raised. "Don't you trample on that sweet girl's heart, Edward Cullen."

"Mom!" I protest.

"Oh, don't 'Mom' me."

"And don't you think of the worst of me," I grumble.

"Edward, you are my son and I love you, but the way you treat women…" She trails off, shaking her head.

"I've never trampled on any woman's heart," I protest angrily. "Any woman I've ever been with knows the deal up front — no surprises."

"And what deal is that, exactly?"

"Mom… Bella is different. I can't explain it — she just is. I would never hurt her," I vow, looking into her eyes so that she can see I'm sincere.

"All right," she nods.

"So is there any news?" I ask, wanting to move the conversation away from Bella and me.

"Oh, yes, I heard from your lawyer Friday afternoon. He's got them, Edward. He's got the cell phone records for both you and Angela."

"And?" I prompt excitedly.

"The records show one call from your phone to Angela's on the night you met, and then two later calls from Angela's phone to yours. The last call was just three days before poor Mrs. Weber was murdered."

"So that's it… that's what we need."

"Yes," she nods. "That's the proof we need that you had a legitimate reason to be in the Webers' home just three days earlier. It's certainly not beyond the realms of possibility for your fingerprints to still be found in the house on the day of the murder."

"Not to any reasonable person," I grumble.

Mom smiles at me, patting my hand. "Mr. Marks is working on the request for a new trial right now. He thinks he should be able to present the motion sometime next week. Just hang on a little while longer. We'll get you a new trial, Edward.

"And we'll get you _free_. I just can't imagine a reasonable jury coming up with a guilty verdict once we're able to present all of the new evidence, including Angela changing her story."

"I couldn't imagine them convicting me the first time," I snort.

"The case will be much stronger now."

"I know," I nod. "I just… don't know how long I can stand it in here."

"You survived nearly three years in prison before," Mom points out.

"I know." But that was before I had Bella.

* * *

_Monday, October 29, 2012_

Two weeks later, I'm practically bouncing with excitement as the guard leads me to the visit room. God, I have missed Bella. And today I've made up my mind that I'm going to tell her I love her… somehow.

As we reach the room and the guard unlocks my handcuffs, I look over to where Mom and Bella usually sit, frowning when I see Mom sitting there. Maybe Bella just let Mom go first this time?

As I walk over to the table, Mom stands up, hugging me tightly.

"Where's Bella?" I ask. Fuck — I didn't mean to sound rude.

"Let's sit down," Mom suggests. Frowning again, I sit down, looking over at her expectantly.

"Bella isn't here today, Edward."

"What?!" God, no… did she finally realize that I don't deserve her?

"It's ok, she's just a little under the weather today — a 24-hour bug," Mom explains. "She looked awful when I arrived at her house this morning."

"So she's not here because she's sick?"

"I'm sorry… I know you're disappointed. But Bella will be back in two weeks' time, I'm sure."

"Yeah," I sigh, trying hard to not let my disappointment show.

"You miss her." I nod. "You really do care about her."

I look up at Mom. "Of course I do," I say sharply.

"Calm down, Edward. It's the first time you've ever cared about a woman, isn't it?" she asks gently.

"Yeah," I whisper. "She's special, Mom. The way she treated me with such tenderness…" I trail off, shaking my head. I'm not sure Mom knows I was shot — and if she doesn't, I sure as hell am not going to be the one to tell her. I still remember the way Bella would brush my hair back as I lay near unconscious in her bed, her fingers sending tingles throughout my body.

"I didn't mean to fall for her," I confess.

"I know, Sweetheart," Mom says gently, squeezing my hand. "You know, Bella told me two weeks ago what had happened to her — losing her husband and baby."

"She did?" I ask with a small smile. "It only took me a week and a half to learn the story. I've tried to tell her — over and over again — that it's not her fault."

"You two were good for each other."

"Are. We _are_ good for each other. When I get out of here, I'm never letting her go."

* * *

**A/N: **Progress in Edward's case! They've got the cell phone records and are working on the motion for a new trial.

Sorry if anyone wanted more detailed prison scenes outside of his visitors. I figured it would get pretty boring with Edward complaining about the food day after day. He's doing all right so far. :)


	17. November

**Author's Note: **Thanks again to moosals for pre-reading. Stephenie Meyer owns all characters.

More mostly new material! This one covers the entire month of November. The equivalent Bella chapters in "Reason For Living" are 20-22.

* * *

_Saturday, November 10, 2012_

"Your lawyer is here, Cullen," a guard calls, rapping on the bars of my cell.

I jump down from the top bunk, eager to find out why Mr. Marks is here. It's been a couple of weeks since he presented my motion for a new trial. Maybe we've got our answer? Why else would he be here on a Saturday?

The guard leads me to a private room where my lawyer sits waiting for me, then unlocks my cuffs. "So when's my new trial date?" I ask as I take my seat.

"Edward…"

I look over at Mr. Marks, and he seems to have aged ten years since I last saw him. "What is it?" I ask in alarm.

"I'm afraid… the judge turned down our request," my lawyer says somberly.

My stomach falls to my feet. No — I must've heard wrong. "What—what did you say?"

"I'm sorry, Edward. The judge denied the motion."

"What?! Why?" I yell. What the fuck?!

Mr. Marks sighs, running his hand through his hair. "He ruled that the new evidence we provided should've been found before the trial."

_Fuck._ "So it's my fault?" I whisper. "Because I didn't tell you about the phone calls?"

"Well… yes," he shrugs. "But we also had other new evidence in the form of Angela's new statement, and obviously we couldn't have gotten that before she confessed to the police. However, the Webers' lawyer has been trumpeting that both the cell phone records and her statement are irrelevant, since it doesn't prove that you didn't return to the house on Sunday to rob the family.

"It's not over, Edward. Jane is back at the office already looking through past cases for a legal precedent. We'll take this all the way to the Washington State Supreme Court if we have to."

"And how long will _that_ take?" I ask bitterly. "How fucking long am I going to be stuck in here?"

"I wish I had an answer for you, but I don't. Just know that _no one_ is going to give up on you. I believe in your innocence, Edward. I always have."

I bury my face in my hands, trying hard to hold back my tears. "It could be years, couldn't it?" I whisper.

"It could be," he allows. "But we won't give up until you're free."

Fuck… years behind bars for a crime I didn't commit. Years without my freedom. Years with only the ability to hug and kiss Bella for a few seconds every two weeks. I sniffle into my hands, unable to hold it back anymore.

"I'm so sorry, Edward."

"Guard!" I yell, standing up from the table.

"Edward…"

"Just… shut up. I can't… I can't be around anyone right now."

The guard steps into the room, looking at the two of us. "Is everything all right?"

"I'd like to go back to my cell now," I choke out.

Nodding, the guard replaces my handcuffs then leads me down the long corridors to my cell. Once he removes my cuffs, I notice Seth sitting in the corner of his bunk, eyeing me warily.

"How… how did it go?"

"The fucking judge denied the motion for a new trial," I say flatly, climbing up to my bunk.

"Whoa…"

I lie on my back and stare up at the ceiling, angrily wiping at my tears that won't stop falling. It's so much worse now than it was the last time I was in prison. Not just because this time I know I'm not guilty, but because I have so much to live for.

Fuck… no, _Bella_ is the one who needs to live given that she's wasted so much time already. I don't even know if she would, but I can't let her wait for me — not for _years_. For once in my life, I need to be unselfish. I need to let her go.

As soon as the revelation comes to me, I can no longer hold back my sobs. I can't imagine my life without Bella in it. She's the best thing that has ever happened to me, along with being adopted by the Cullens. Letting her go will be the hardest thing I'll ever have to do… but I know I have to. For her.

"Edward?" Seth's voice reaches me through the fog clouding my mind. "Time to go out in the yard."

"Go without me," I croak. "I'll just stay here."

"Are—are you sure?"

"I'm sure." The last thing I want to do is throw around a fucking basketball.

I hear the clang of the bars as Seth leaves, then turn onto my side, facing the wall. I angrily wipe at my snotty nose — since when do I fucking cry?

Mom and Bella should be here in two days. That's how long I have to figure out how the hell I can let her go. I don't want to hurt her; it's for her own fucking good. She needs to go on and live the life she's meant to live. Go back to Seattle and save animals. She can't save me anymore.

* * *

_Monday, November 12, 2012_

"Visitor, Cullen."

I wince, feeling like I'm going to be sick. I slowly climb down from my bunk, holding my hands out to be cuffed.

"Good luck, man," Seth calls.

I nod, letting the guard lead me out into the hallway. He tries to make small talk with me, but that's the last thing I can deal with right now.

We reach the visit room, and I stare at the floor as my cuffs are removed. I've had two days to prepare, but I'm not ready for this. I'm not ready to say goodbye to Bella.

Once the cuffs are off, I look up and see Mom sitting at a table. I breathe a sigh of relief — I have a short reprieve.

I slowly walk over to the table as Mom looks up at me expectantly. She finally stands as I reach her, throwing her arms around me.

"Oh Edward," she cries, hugging me fiercely. I sluggishly lift my arms, hugging her small body to mine. Mom pulls back after a few moments, looking up at me with tears in her eyes, and I give her a small smile.

I grab the back of the nearest chair and sit down, holding my head in my hands. Mom sits beside me then pulls one of my hands away from my hair so she can grasp it tightly.

"How are you, Edward?"

"Really, Mom?" I snort.

"Edward…" she sighs. "I'm going to give you a pass on that because I know how upset you must be."

I don't reply, just continue to stare at the table.

"We're not going to give up on you, Edward," Mom says emphatically.

"That's great, but… it seems like everyone from the Judge to the detectives who worked on my case have it in for me! They wouldn't see the fucking truth if it slapped them in the face."

"Language, Edward." I roll my eyes.

"I know you're upset, honey," she continues, "But this is not the end of the world. There are still a lot of legal options left. It's _not_ over."

"But no one can give me any kind of answer as to how long it'll be. It could be _years_, Mom. Years!"

"That's a… possibility. But you can't think like that, Edward. You need a positive attitude."

"I _was_ positive — positive that the cell phone records were the key. Fat lot of good that did me," I snort.

Mom scoots her chair closer to mine, wrapping one arm around me and rubbing my shoulder.

"Try, sweetheart. Just remember all of the people that are on your side — me, your dad, your brother… Bella."

I squeeze my eyes closed, trying not to picture Bella's face… not to picture the way she looks below me. Or hell, even above me. I can't think of the good times, not if I'm going to do what I have to do.

"Is there anything you need, Edward? Do you have enough money in your account?"

"Enough for now," I answer quietly, scooting my ass forward and slouching against the back of the chair. I look over at Mom and I almost want to tell her what I'm planning, ask if I'm doing the right thing.

"Just be strong, Edward," Mom says. "Hang on."

"I know," I sigh. "It's all I can do."

"You got through this before—"

"I wish everyone would stop fucking saying that! It was different before." I run my hand through my hair angrily.

"Different because…?" I look at her pointedly. "Because of Bella?" she asks quietly. I nod, biting my lip.

Mom looks up at the sound of the door opening across the room. "Speak of the devil," she says quietly. She reaches over, hugging me close to her. "It's going to be ok, Edward," she whispers before kissing my cheek.

Mom pulls away, and I watch her wipe a tear from her cheek before standing up. I'm really going to throw up now. I stare down at my lap, willing myself to go through with this.

I hear Bella's footsteps as she crosses the room and swallow thickly. I have to do this, even if it feels like ripping my own heart out.

"Edward?" she whispers. I lift my head at the sound of her voice, looking up at her sweet face. "Oh, Edward," she cries, bending down so that she can wrap her arms around me.

I hesitate, not wanting to do anything that could make me change my mind. But I can't let my last chance to hold Bella pass me by. I wrap my arms around her, then twist in my chair, tugging at her until she falls sideways across my lap. Squeezing her tightly, I bury my face in her neck, breathing in her scent. I feel the wetness from Bella's tears falling onto my cheek.

"Ma'am," a deep voice says. Bella lifts her head and I'm already missing her warmth. "The rules only allow a brief hug and holding hands."

"I'm sorry," she replies sheepishly. I reluctantly relax my hold on her and she moves to the chair beside me, grabbing both of my hands in hers. The guard nods and moves back to his post along the wall.

Bella turns back to focus on me, squeezing my hands. "You can't give up, Edward," she says softly, staring into my eyes, pleading with me to listen to her.

"The judge denied the motion, Bella. Do you know why?" I ask. She shakes her head. "Because he said we should've requested the cell phone records before the trial. It's too late for new evidence."

"But Angela didn't tell the truth until after you were convicted! You couldn't have changed _that_."

I shrug. "Do you see now what law enforcement thinks of me?" I ask bitterly.

"They don't know you like I do," she insists.

"I should hope not," I reply with a small smile. Bella smiles in return and she's so fucking beautiful.

"It could take a lot longer to get out of prison than I ever dreamed," I say quietly, my smile quickly fading.

"But you can't give up hope!" I roll my eyes in response.

"Edward," Bella whispers. "I need… I need to tell you something." _Fuck_… no. No, I can't hear some sweet words from her. I can't hear that and go through with what I have to do.

"No," I interrupt. "There's something I need to say first."

"Um, ok?"

I sigh, removing my right hand from hers and running it through my hair roughly. I close my eyes briefly as I try to force the words to come.

When I open them again, I stare into Bella's eyes and rip out my heart. "I don't want you to visit me anymore."

"Wh—what?"

"I could be in prison for 25 years, Bella. I can't…" I shake my head. "I'm no good for you. I don't want you to visit me."

"You… don't… want me?"

I take hold of her left hand again, then bring both of her hands to my lips, kissing them lightly. "I'm sorry," I whisper, staring at our joined hands. "It's for the best."

"Best for _who_?!" she cries.

"For _you_, baby," I reply, glancing up at her. "I'm… I'm a lost cause. You can't afford to waste another minute of your life. Get therapy, get yourself better and start living again… but don't wait for me. Don't hold out hope that I'm going to get out of here anytime soon."

"But what if I want—"

"No!" I shout. "You don't know what you really want. I need you to go live your life without worrying about me."

"I can't just stop worrying — stop caring about you." She shakes her head, looking more lost than I've ever seen her.

"You will," I whisper, "In time. I was just a momentary distraction to you — two weeks out of your life. Soon, it'll be as if I never existed." But I'll never forget _you_.

Her breath hitches. "Edward," she begins pleadingly. "Don't do this. I—"

"Stop!" I yell. "You can't change my mind. It's best if you just go now." She stares at me, and my heart breaks from the look on her face. She must understand that this isn't what I want, that it's for _her_. It's all for her.

"Ok," she whispers, standing up from the table. Still holding her hands, I stand alongside her, forcing myself to say one more blasphemous thing.

"Goodbye, Bella."

Bella stares into my eyes, and the tears in hers break my heart. I drop her hands, quickly taking her face in my hands as I place one last chaste kiss on her lips. I pull back before I decide to tell her to forget everything I just said, and she throws her arms around me, holding me tightly. I force myself to stand motionless, my hands at my sides.

With a deep breath, I kiss the top of her head. Bella abruptly pulls away from me, her hand over her mouth. She runs toward the door, and the guard posted there opens it for her. As the two of them step out into the hallway, I sit heavily back on my chair, my head falling into my hands.

It's over. Bella's gone. I can only hope that she truly does move on, go back to her life in Seattle.

"I love you, Bella," I whisper to myself.

* * *

_November 26, 2012_

As the guard leads me to the visit room, I feel like a dead man walking. Seriously, I feel like I haven't slept a fucking wink in the last two weeks. And I've had no appetite — not that the food around here is anything to write home about.

Some small part of me hopes that Bella will ignore what I told her and be waiting for me in the visit room today, just so I can get one more look at her. But I saw the look on her face before she ran out last time, and I know she won't be back.

Once the guard unlocks my cuffs, I look around, easily spotting my mom sitting in the far corner. I make my way over to her and she greets me with a long hug.

"How are you, Edward?" she asks tentatively.

I shrug — what does she want to hear? That I'm just fucking peachy?

"You look so tired," she continues, brushing her finger underneath my left eye.

"I'm not exactly sleeping on Egyptian cotton sheets," I reply, batting her hand away.

"Did you… did you have a nice Thanksgiving? Did they feed you a traditional dinner?" Mom asks.

"If you consider dry turkey, lumpy mashed potatoes and bland gravy to be a nice dinner, then sure," I shrug.

"My son, the food snob," Mom replies with a small smile. "I really missed having my two sons for dinner last week, even if Emmett usually needs a whole turkey to himself."

"Emmett wasn't there either?"

"No," she replies quietly. "He had a game against the Giants yesterday and couldn't make the trip out here. He spent the holiday with Rosalie's family in upstate New York."

"So it was just you and Dad?"

"Well… no." I raise an eyebrow as she hesitates. "Bella and her father were there."

My eyes widen. _Bella_ had Thanksgiving dinner with Mom and Dad? In _Seattle_? With her _dad_?

"What?!" I choke out. "Why?"

"Bella has moved back to Seattle, Edward. And it seemed easier for her dad to visit her than to come pick her up and drive her back to Forks so she could cook dinner for him."

"She moved back? Really?" I ask in wonder.

"Yeah, she did," Mom smiles. "Before your last visit, actually. She just… never got a chance to tell you."

"Did she find a job and everything?"

"She did," Mom nods. "She got her old job back at the veterinary hospital. And — she's had two appointments so far with a therapist that your father recommended."

I smile… my plan is working. Bella is getting her life back. Just knowing that makes her absence a little easier to take. All that matters is that she's happy.

Mom reaches over to pat my hand. "Won't you consider asking Bella to come back, Edward? I could hardly believe it when she told me what you said, that you don't want her to visit."

"Mom…" I groan, running my hand through my hair roughly. "I know Bella told you what happened to her. You know how much time she's wasted hiding out by herself. She needs to live again, Mom. I don't want her to wait around for me."

"She's not waiting around, Edward! She's purchased a new home in Seattle, she's got a job, a therapist… what's the harm in letting her visit you every two weeks?"

"I can't, Mom…" I choke out. "Please…"

"Sweetheart, we are not going to just leave you to rot here. Mr. Marks is not going to give up until he's got you free. Your father and I aren't going to give up. And neither is Bella."

"Do you think it was easy to decide to let her go? It wasn't easy, Mom!" I cry. "I thought about it for two days straight, and it's for the best."

"Edward…"

"Please, Mom, just trust me."

Mom shakes her head. I can see the disappointment written all over her face. "Bella had a message for you. She wanted me to tell you not to give up hope."

I sigh, burying my face in my hands.

"What's happened to my Sunshine?" Mom asks sadly. "You have always, _always_ looked on the bright side."

"Yeah, before the entire fucking Seattle PD was out to get me!"

"Language, Edward."

I can't help chuckling… Mom has spent the last ten years trying to get me to clean up my language — I'm not about to start now.

"Look, Mom, I… trust you. I know you and my lawyer will get me out of here… one day. I just don't know how far in the future that day is," I shrug.

"But don't you want to see Bella in the meantime?"

"Of course I do… God, I miss her so much," I reply, my voice breaking. "But this is for her — this is what's best for _her_."

"It's _not_, Edward. There are things—"

She stops abruptly, and I look up at her.

"Just think about it. Please," she begs.

"I promise," I vow… with two fingers crossed behind my back.

* * *

**A/N: **This is an angsty as it gets, I promise.

Who wants to give Edward a big hug?

My one-shot "Beauty And The Beast" won a few awards in the Light The Darkness Contest, including Third Place in both the Public and Judges Vote! It's posted on my profile now, so go check it out if you haven't yet.


	18. December

**SORRY! Been trying to update since 9am on Monday and FFn F-A-I-L wouldn't let me.**

**Author's Note: **Thanks again to moosals for pre-reading. Stephenie Meyer owns all characters.

More mostly new material! This one covers most of December. The equivalent Bella chapters in "Reason For Living" are 23 and **the first half** of 24.

* * *

_Monday, December 10, 2012_

I'm tired. I'm just fucking tired. Of everything — sleeping on a fucking cot, listening to the various prison noises all night long, eating food that isn't fit for dogs, not having a badly needed release.

I feel so old before my time. I'm only 24 but I feel ancient and jaded compared to my 19-year-old cellmate. I feel as if I'll go crazy if I have be cooped up in here much longer. My daily trips to the weight room seem to be my one bright spot.

"Cullen!"

Sighing, I hop down from my bunk. Another visit with Mom.

Not that I mind seeing her. I love my mom, and at least… at least I know someone still cares about me as long as she's visiting. And I know she'll tell me how Bella is doing. But another visit means another two weeks have passed and I'm still in this fucking place.

The guard unlocks my cuffs when we reach the visit room and I look toward the usual table, stunned to see my father sitting next to Mom. I slowly make my way over to them, watching them both stand as I near the table.

"Hey."

"Edward, sweetheart…" Mom squeezes me tightly.

"Hi, Mom," I whisper, kissing the top of her head.

"Edward." Dad holds his arms out and I let him hug me briefly and slap me on the back. "I'm sorry I haven't been able to make it earlier," Dad begins as we sit down. "Mondays seem to be busy days at the hospital, but I was off work today."

"Good to see you, Dad," I reply quietly. My father and I have long had a bit of a prickly relationship. I've never _not_ believed that he loves me, but I know I've repeatedly disappointed him. He and Mom gave me everything after they adopted me, but I wasn't ready to accept it.

"You still look so tired, sweetheart," Mom laments, brushing her finger under my eye again. "Aren't you sleeping at all?"

I shrug. How can I explain how wrong it feels — how _cold_ I feel — to sleep without Bella? It doesn't even make any sense to _me_.

"Is your cellmate giving you trouble?" Dad asks.

"No, not at all." I shake my head. "Seth is great… he kinda idolizes me," I chuckle. "We go work out together every day."

"What is he in for?" Mom asks.

"Selling drugs to an undercover cop. He's not a bad kid… he just ended up addicted to drugs himself and needed to support his habit."

"That could've happened to you," Dad points out.

I sigh, gritting my teeth. He just couldn't resist pointing out how I've screwed up in the past. "It didn't."

Mom reaches over, patting my hand. She's always been so good at reading me, and I think she knows how I'm seething inside.

"How's Bella?" I ask, changing the subject.

"She's fine," Mom answers. "I almost convinced her to come along with us this week, but she was closing on her house today."

"Yeah? She's really ok?" I can't help the disappointment that bubbles up inside me to hear that Bella _almost_ came along today.

"She's really ok," Mom confirms. "I just saw her this weekend when I helped her with furniture shopping."

"You helped her and not her friend Alice?" Just how friendly have Mom and Bella gotten, anyway?

"Well, both of us did, actually. Alice is a lot of fun — I think you'd like her, Edward."

"Me? Why?"

Mom shrugs. "She reminds me a bit of you in the way she'll say whatever comes to mind. Maybe… maybe someday you'll meet her."

"Yeah, maybe," I reply quietly.

"Edward," Dad begins, "This is silly. Why don't you want to see Bella? With the way you ask about her, I know you care."

"I never said I don't care," I protest. "I've told Mom this — I only want what is best for Bella."

"Seeing you would be best for her, Edward," Mom says. "I promise you."

My resolve slips a little bit at Mom's words. I want that to be true, so much. But if Bella cares for me even half as much as I care for her — as I _love_ her — then I'm afraid that she'll just continue to let life pass her by while she waits for me to be released.

"How is the football season going, Dad?" I ask, trying to change the subject again.

"The Packers won last night; they're 9-4," Dad answers. "Should be a shoo-in for the playoffs."

"That's great," I smile. "And the Seahawks?"

"They beat the Cardinals 58-0 yesterday! I think they're 8-5 now."

"Wow, I wish I could've seen that. I haven't seen a game since I was at Bella's," I complain, remembering the two of us cuddled up on the couch watching Monday Night Football together. Fuck… my eyes start to burn as I remember the way she'd curl up into my body, letting me hold her close.

"Edward…?" Mom calls. "What is it?"

I shrug, staring down at the table. I know if I tell her what I was remembering, she'll just continue to badger me about asking for Bella to come back and visit.

"We won't be able to visit in two weeks, Edward," Mom says suddenly.

I look up in confusion. "Why not?"

"It's Christmas Eve," Mom explains. "That day has been booked up for visits for months already."

Oh. Christmas Eve… some part of me knows it's December, but without the decorations and Christmas carols and shit, it never occurred to me how close it was to the holidays.

"That's ok," I reply quietly. I know it's not her fault. Being locked up on Christmas is already going to suck — it doesn't matter that I'll be alone too.

Yeah, I'll try to tell myself that.

* * *

_Monday, December 17, 2012_

"Cullen!"

I'm out shooting hoops with Seth when a guard shows up in the yard, calling my name. I look over at him in confusion.

"You've got a visitor, Cullen."

My first thought is of Bella, but I quickly dismiss that idea. It's probably just Mom, coming to see me this week since she won't be able to _next_ Monday.

The guard cuffs me, leading me back into the building and through the hallways. I'm confused when we pass by the visit room for the smaller, private room. As I walk in the door, I see my lawyer sitting at the table.

"What's up?" I ask as the guard removes my handcuffs and steps out of the room.

"Have a seat, Edward," Mr. Marks replies, a small smile on his face. I pull out the chair, cringing at the noise it makes scraping along the floor, and sit down, looking over at him curiously.

"The police have the murder weapon," he says with no lead-up.

My eyes widen. "Are they sure?"

"Yes," he nods, "There was a ballistics match on the bullets."

"How… Where did they find it? Why would they test it? Who had it? What does this mean?" The questions fly out of my mouth as fast as my mind can think them.

My lawyer holds his hand up. "One thing at a time. First — the gun was found during a routine traffic stop. The officer searched the car, finding a large amount of jewelry that he assumed to be stolen. When the homeowners reported their property missing that evening and later identified the jewelry as theirs, one of the officers ran a check for other robberies within a five-mile radius of the couple's home. The Webers' home showed up on their list."

"But the police considered the case to be closed," I reply in confusion.

"They did," he nods. "But one of the officers involved in the recent case happened to be the one to take Angela Weber's new statement. He wasn't as convinced as others that she was lying, so he got a friend in ballistics to test the gun."

"So now what? The cops probably just think someone found the gun after I killed her."

"I'm sure many of them do think that," he agrees. "But today a judge issued a search warrant for the robbery suspect's residence. If there's anything there that will tie him to the Webers' home, they'll find it."

"So… who is this guy? The guy who had the gun," I clarify.

"His name is James Hunter."

"Should I know him?" Mr. Marks shrugs. "I've never heard the name before. Doesn't mean anything, I guess."

"Thus far he's only been charged with the robbery that took place last week, but they're definitely looking at him for the other nearby unsolved cases."

"And one solved case," I add quietly.

"Yes," he nods, "And one solved case."

"If they don't find anything—" My lawyer holds his hand up, again, stopping me.

"You can't think like that, Edward. If this guy is some habitual criminal, there's a good chance he keeps… mementos or something from his past robberies. The officer who believes in you, the one who had the gun tested — he has promised to go along and look himself for anything on the list of items stolen from the Weber residence."

"All right, so if they find something…"

"If they find something, it would obviously go a long way toward getting you a new trial — getting you out of here. But if they can get Hunter to confess, that should speed things up dramatically."

"So this could be it," I whisper. "The break we've been looking for."

"Yes," he smiles. "The police will be conducting the search tomorrow. I'll keep you updated as they find anything out, so don't be surprised if you get a phone call."

I shake my lawyer's hand and the guard leads me back to my cell in a daze. I don't want to get my hopes up, just to have them shot down again. I can't go through that again.

Back in my cell, I face Seth's curious look. "What's up, man?" he asks when I remain silent.

"The police found the murder weapon. Now if only they can find something tying the man who had it to the murder… I could go free." I still can hardly believe it.

"That's great, man," Seth smiles, standing so he can come high-five me. "So you can go back to your girl."

"What?" I have to force myself to take another breath.

"Your girl… Ella, or Bella, or something. You call out for her at night."

I stand staring at Seth; I had no idea that I said Bella's name in my sleep.

"Are you all right, man?" Seth asks.

"Sorry… yeah… her name is Bella," I admit quietly. "She took me in after my escape. Getting back to her… that's all I want."

"You will, Edward — I can feel it. What's the first thing you're gonna do when you see her?"

I can almost picture the scene in my mind: Bella standing in the courtroom waiting for me, looking so beautiful.

"I'm gonna take her in my arms and never, ever let her go again."

* * *

_Thursday, December 27, 2012_

I sit nervously in the back of the prison van on my way to the King County courthouse where I was sentenced over four months ago. The search of James Hunter's residence was successful, with the police finding a watch that was a gift from Mrs. Weber to her husband for their twentieth wedding anniversary — confirmed by the inscription on the watch. After Hunter finally confessed last Friday, Mr. Marks requested a hearing to present the new evidence and ask for my conviction to be overturned. A judge agreed to hear the case this afternoon.

As we near the courthouse, we can hardly make our way to the parking garage through the maze of vans from all of the local television stations parked outside. Once we've parked, the guard leads me in handcuffs through a private entrance and into an elevator.

Getting off on the second floor, I'm led to a small room where my lawyer is waiting for me.

"Edward," he greets me with a smile. "I picked up some clothes from your parents' home last night. Guard, why don't you release his cuffs so he can get changed."

Everyone steps out of the room and I quickly change into the black dress slacks and light blue button-down shirt. Thank God they didn't give me a tie to wear. I knock on the door when I'm done, and my lawyer and the guard lead me to the courtroom. I'm so nervous that I feel like I could throw up at any moment.

I mostly stare straight ahead as I walk up the aisle of the courtroom, but I notice my father's blond head sitting on the aisle just behind the defendant's table. Assuming Mom is next to him, I wink in their direction. I'm afraid to really look to see if Bella is there, too; I don't want to be disappointed if she's not. This is a huge day for me — the day I've been waiting for for months — and I want her to be here waiting for me so badly. I know I'll be crushed if she's not, and I need to think positive thoughts right now.

Mom leans forward and puts her left hand on my shoulder once I sit down. We all rise when the Judge walks into the courtroom and court is called into session

Mr. Marks definitely earns his paycheck as he lays out his argument for overturning the conviction. He steps through all of the new evidence, beginning with Angela's new statement and the cell phone records that back it up. He then explains that James Hunter was found in possession of both the murder weapon and at least one item stolen from the Weber household, finishing by presenting the Judge with a signed copy of Hunter's confession.

I hold my breath when the State is given a chance to contest the defense's assertions, but instead, the prosecutor confirms their intention to charge Hunter with the crime. By the time the Judge retires to his chambers to read over the evidence provided, I start to really believe that this could be it.

"We've got it, Edward," my lawyer whispers to me. "I was watching the Judge's face and I could see the way he read over the confession."

"Do you really think he'll rule in my favor?" I whisper back.

"I do," he nods.

After about ten minutes, the Judge walks back into the courtroom to announce his decision. I hold my breath as he begins to speak.

"I reviewed the original court transcripts earlier this afternoon. After reading through Miss Weber's new statement, it strikes me that had she given this version of events to the police from the outset, there might not have been a trial, let alone a conviction. I hope that the State is considering perjury charges against Miss Weber, because her testimony most likely led to Mr. Cullen spending several months in prison for a crime he did not commit."

I squeeze my eyes closed — it sounds like he's going to rule in my favor. Could this nightmare _finally_ be over?

"In light of Mr. Hunter's confession and the fact that he was in possession of both the murder weapon and stolen property, I believe that the chances that he will be convicted of this very same crime are quite high. I hereby rule that Mr. Cullen's conviction is overturned. You're free to go, Mr. Cullen. Court is dismissed."

I stand in a daze when the Judge leaves the courtroom. I feel unsteady on my feet. It's over — it's finally fucking over.

Mom immediately steps around the barrier to the defense table to hug me tightly. I hug her back, trying not to cry. When she finally lets me go, Dad hugs me just as tightly, slapping me on the back. I can hear the questions from the reporters surrounding us as they stand by, their microphones and notepads in hand. But I don't give a fuck about them.

All I fucking care about is whether or not Bella is here.

I begin looking around the courtroom for her before I finally spot her standing alone in the aisle. She's even more beautiful than I remembered; her skin seems to be glowing. I can't hold back a smile before I take two large steps in her direction. I throw my arms around her, hugging her tightly to me.

But it's not nearly enough. I shift my arms to lift her until her feet are off the ground. I swing her around while I bury my face in her neck and breathe in her scent. _God_, she feels so fucking good in my arms, but—

Something is wrong; something is _different_. Bella always feels so tiny in my arms, so thin… and now her stomach feels round yet _hard_ against my own. What the fuck _is_ that?

I stop spinning her, setting her back on her feet and stepping back. I stare at her, trying to figure out what the fuck is going on here. It can't… it just can't be what that felt like… _can it_? I can do nothing but stare at her, my mouth hanging open as I try to grasp exactly what this means.

"Ed—Edward," she stutters. "It's ok, Edward."

I pull my gaze away from her stomach up to her eyes, seeing them fill with fresh tears. "You don't… I'm not asking you for anything. I know it's—it's a shock, and it's not something you expected to have to deal with. You want to enjoy your freedom now, of course you do. And you can. I can do this by myself."

I continue to stare, trying to decipher what the fuck she just said. Slowly, I reach out my hand and place it on her stomach. My eyes widen as I feel the small swell in her abdomen. Is that… is that a _baby_? Is that _my_ baby?

"Bella?" I whisper questioningly. But she just said she—

"Edward," Mr. Marks interrupts, his hand on my shoulder. "A couple of the guards have agreed to escort us down to the parking garage so we can avoid the media onslaught. We need to leave right now though."

He tugs on my arm and my gaze drops from Bella's as I turn away in shock. We reach Mom and Dad where they're standing near the courtroom door and they follow in step behind us.

"Where's Bella?" Mom asks, turning around when we reach the elevator at the end of the hallway. "I thought she was behind us."

"Edward…?" My dad prompts when I don't respond.

"She's not coming," I whisper in a daze.

"What?" Mom asks. "Hang on — I need to go back for her. I was Bella's ride here."

"Mrs. Cullen, we really do need to leave right now," my lawyer pipes up.

"But Bella—?"

"She'll be fine, Mom," I reply sharply. "She doesn't need me." Bella's words: "_I can do this by myself_," are running on a loop through my head.

The elevator doors open and as we step inside, Mom pulls her cell phone out of her purse. "Damn it, I can't get a signal."

"Who are you calling, Mom?"

"I'm trying to call Bella! I don't understand what's going on here, but I can't just leave her stranded… Damn it, still no signal," she complains when we reach the parking garage moments later.

"Edward, we need to go back to my office so I can make some phone calls," Mr. Marks says. "You're still facing charges in Aberdeen related to your escape and assaulting the guard. I need to make sure they're not going to put out a warrant for your arrest."

"What?" I exclaims. "But the Judge said I'm free to go."

"You're free as far as King County is concerned, but not in Grays Harbor County."

"But—" I glance over at Mom and she's still trying to get a signal on her fucking cell phone. "Leave it, Mom!"

"Edward, what has gotten into you? I told you — I was Bella's ride home."

"She can take a fucking cab!" I yell. "Just… just stay out of it, ok? I'll call her when I'm done here."

"Edward…"

"_Please_, Mom," I beg.

"All right," she sighs, shaking her head disapprovingly. "Carlisle and I will go home and wait for you." Mom steps closer to me, hugging me tightly. "I'll see you at home."

I nod, letting my lawyer lead me to his BMW. I climb into the passenger seat, buckling my seatbelt before leaning my head back and closing my eyes. My head is spinning… Bella is apparently _pregnant_ with my baby… and she doesn't want me. This is so far outside every scenario I ever imagined for my release that I can't even think straight.

* * *

**A/N: **So, "Reason For Living" readers have been waiting for this part in EPOV, I'm sure!

For the rest of you, and I know there are a few, what are you thinking? How many guessed what Bella was trying to tell Edward in the last chapter? What do you think Edward is going to do now?

I'll be out of town Tuesday through Friday afternoon. Escaping this freezing cold for the warmth of Florida! Alas, it's for business. I'll have my work laptop with me, but I don't go on FFn from work, so we'll see if I post Thursday's chapter on time. If not, it'll be posted when I get home.


	19. December 27-28

**Author's Note: **Thanks again to moosals for pre-reading. Stephenie Meyer owns all characters.

This chapter picks up right where the last one left off. It covers the missing block of time in Bella's Chapter 24.

* * *

Mr. Marks wisely leaves me alone for the duration of the drive to his office; I must look crazed. Once we've parked, I climb out of the car, following him into the building.

"Just take a seat," he directs once we reach his office.

I place my elbows on my knees and bury my face in my hands as I try not to totally eavesdrop on my lawyer's phone conversation. But then, if he wanted privacy, I assume he would've left me in the waiting area.

"Well," he sighs, hanging up the phone, "Looks like we're making a trip to Aberdeen."

"What?" Am I going back to prison?

"You need to answer to the charges pending there. Jane should've finished handling the paperwork back at the courthouse. I'm gonna call her and ask her to meet us at the police station in Aberdeen," he finishes, shrugging his arms back into his suit jacket. "Let's go."

I follow my lawyer out the door and back to his car, wishing for this nightmare to just be fucking over already. Jane, his law partner, apparently agrees to meet us at the Aberdeen police station.

"Why do you need Jane?" I ask curiously as we pull out of the parking lot.

"Because she's got the paperwork that proves the charges against you have been dropped in King County. That should improve my chances of getting Grays Harbor County to drop any charges related to your escape."

I nod, closing my eyes as I try to take a nap during the two-hour drive back to the town I was hoping to never visit again. I'm not sure I sleep more than two minutes at a time though. My mind is still reeling from what happened in the courtroom earlier. But I can't think about that right now — keeping myself from going back to prison has to be my number one objective.

Once we arrive at the station, Mr. Marks leads me inside, where Jane, a blonde who's even smaller than Bella, is already waiting for us. The three of us are led back to a room with Sergeant Aaron and Officer Embry, as well as the warden from Stafford Creek.

"Well, Mr. Cullen," Officer Embry begins after looking over the paperwork that Jane handed him. "So you were not guilty after all."

"That's right," I croak, clearing my throat.

"You still escaped, still cost us a lot of time and money trying to find you."

"Not to mention assault and battery on one of our guards," the warden adds.

"Yes, Sir," I reply submissively.

"Do you have anything to say for yourself?" the warden asks.

"I, um, didn't hit him that hard? I just wanted to stun him long enough that I could get away. It's not like I shot him or something."

"You broke his nose." _Fuck._ "However, I did speak to the guard after learning that the charges against you had been dropped. He has agreed to not go through with pressing charges… to let you off with the last three months as time served, so to speak."

"Tell him I appreciate that," I whisper. Thank fuck.

"As for the city of Aberdeen," Sergeant Aaron begins, "I'm willing to let you off with a fine to compensate us."

"A fine?" I ask shakily. Fuck, I'm broke, and I really can't ask my parents for more money.

"May I speak to my client privately for a moment?" The Sergeant nods, and I follow my lawyer into the corner of the room.

"You're entitled to compensation from the state of Washington for your wrongful conviction," he states quietly.

I look at Mr. Marks sharply. I didn't realize I was entitled to anything, but I'd much rather see it go to my parents to pay them back for my legal fees. "Yeah? How much?"

"It's fifty thousand per year of wrongful imprisonment, though in your case it'll be pro-rated down to about a third of that. But they'll also pay for court costs and attorneys' fees on top of that."

"So my parents will get the money they spent back?" I ask eagerly.

"Yes," he nods. "You're looking at fifteen to twenty thousand, which has got to more than cover reimbursing Aberdeen for what they spent in the search for you. I'll negotiate as low of a number as I can, all right?"

"Ok," I agree, and we both take our seats again.

I sit quietly while the two sides hammer out a deal. I'm fucking exhausted and just want to climb into my own bed for the first time in months. I sign where they tell me to sign, then stand up, rubbing at my temple.

"Are you all right, Edward?" my lawyer asks.

I shrug. "Fucking headache."

"Have you eaten today?"

"Just a shitty breakfast. We were on the road before lunchtime."

"Hmmm," he begins, looking at his watch. "It's seven o'clock. No wonder you've got a headache if you haven't eaten. Let's go get something to eat," he suggests.

"Any ideas?" he asks when we climb back into his BMW.

I chuckle at the first thing that comes to mind. "I want a fucking burger. There's a place on the main drag in Cosmopolis, across the river."

"All right," he smiles.

A half hour later, I'm stuffed from my bacon double cheeseburger, onion rings and chocolate shake. I have no more reason to ever come to this part of the state again, but at least I enjoyed my last meal here.

"Why here?" Mr. Marks asks curiously.

"It's the only place I know in town," I shrug. Getting a burger here is what got me caught," I add quietly. I chuckle as his eyes widen.

"Ready to get back home?"

"Abso-fucking-lutely."

As we make the long drive home, my mind drifts repeatedly to Bella. I can't believe she's… _pregnant_. I can't believe she didn't tell me. Did Mom and Dad know? Why didn't they tell me? As the anger starts to bubble up inside me, I try to think about other things, like the fact that I'll be sleeping in my own bed tonight. I'm so fucking exhausted that I can't concentrate on anything. I need a good night's sleep before I can even attempt to deal with everything.

Two hours later, we exit the interstate onto Mercer Island. "So we're done, right?" I ask as we drive through the quiet streets.

"Done? Well, no, not entirely." I look over at him questioningly.

"I imagine the police will want to talk to you about Hunter's case. I'll accompany you to any questioning. If they do charge Miss Weber with perjury, they'll probably want to interview you for that as well."

"Can't they do both at the same time?" I ask.

"Well," he chuckles, "That would certainly be easier, but it's probably different cops working the two cases. I'm also going to look into whether or not you can sue for more compensation than the amount that state law requires."

"Ok," I reply quietly as we pull into my parents' driveway.

"Have a good night, Edward. I'll call you as soon as I hear something from the police."

"Thank you," I reply sincerely. I walk up the porch steps, having to ring the fucking doorbell when I realize I don't have my keys. I stare at Mom's huge Christmas wreath until the door opens.

"Edward," Mom gasps. "Come in, come in… Where have you been?"

"Aberdeen. All charges against me there have been dismissed."

"Oh, thank God." Mom hugs me tightly, leading me into the family room. A huge Christmas tree sits in front of the bay window, anchoring the space. Dad is nowhere to be seen. I look around at this house I left back in August and everything just feels _different_. Or maybe it's me who's different.

"Your father went up to bed about ten minutes ago," Mom explains. "He has an early shift at the hospital tomorrow. Um, did you want to call Bella now?" she asks tentatively.

"No!" I yell. "It's—it's late."

"I'm sure it won't be too late to call. She's probably confused… and worried sick."

"_She's_ confused?! How the hell do you think I feel?" Mom looks at me sympathetically and I realize… she knew. "You knew?" I gasp. "You knew she's pregnant?"

"Yes, Edward," Mom replies quietly.

I stand up, one hand tearing at my hair. "I can't—I can't deal with this right now. I feel like I'm going to fall asleep just standing here."

"Edward," Mom says sharply. "Let me call Bella and tell her what's going on."

"No, it's not your responsibility, Mom. Let me handle it. I'll deal with her tomorrow, ok?"

"Tomorrow," she nods, her brows furrowed in disapproval.

I slowly climb up the stairs and walk into my old bedroom. Maybe I'm imagining things, but it almost smells like Bella.

I strip off my clothes, then head into the bathroom to take a leak. I smile at my mother leaving a fresh toothbrush on the counter for me.

I stare at the shower and, God, a long hot shower sounds fucking awesome right about now. I stand under the pounding spray — fucking water pressure! — until the water starts to run cold. After I towel off, I decide to forgo my boxers as I climb into bed, loving the feel of the soft cool sheets against my skin.

* * *

Despite the comfortable bed, I toss and turn all fucking night long. I finally crawl out of bed when I feel like my bladder is going to burst. I've also got a massive boner.

I make my best attempt to aim at the toilet, then decide to take another shower. I rub one out quickly, then wash my hair. I smile at Mom leaving my favorite shampoo in the shower for me — it's like I never left.

I dig around in a drawer for some clothes and head downstairs. Is that — do I smell what I think I smell?

"Good morning, Sunshine," Mom smiles at me when I step into the kitchen.

"Morning," I mumble. "Is that what I think it is?"

"Yes," Mom smiles. "I put it in the oven as soon as I heard you get up, so it'll be about another ten minutes."

My taste buds are so fucking ready for some home-cooked food. My favorite breakfast as a teenager was Mom's Southern breakfast casserole, with Texas toast, eggs, sausage and lots of cheese. Dad hates it, always said he could feel his arteries clog just by looking at it, but Emmett and I love it.

"Have a seat and wait," Mom suggests, pulling out a chair for me. "Did you sleep well?"

"Not really," I answer quietly. "I kept waking up, thinking yesterday was a dream."

Mom smiles at me sympathetically. "Well, it's not — you're really free. Oh, your lawyer called about an hour ago. Seems the police aren't wasting any time and want to talk to you this afternoon, get your statement in Hunter's case. I hope they put that man away for a long, long time."

"All right," I mumble as Mom grabs the orange juice out of the fridge and pours me a glass. She puts the container back in the fridge and sits down across for me.

"So," she begins nervously, "About Bella…"

I close my eyes, running my hand through my hair roughly.

"Edward, we _need_ to talk about this."

I nod, knowing she's right and I can't escape it anymore. "She's really pregnant?" I whisper.

"Yes," Mom nods.

"How long has she known? How long have _you_ known?"

"Do you remember that day when Bella was too sick to come visit you?" I nod. "Since that day."

"So you lied to me?" I ask angrily. "You said she had a 24-hour bug!"

"I didn't lie to you, Edward. Bella truly thought she just had a bug. I brought her lunch after my visit with you and she told me then that she'd been sick for four days. That didn't sound like just a bug to me, and I suspected she might be pregnant.

"Bella didn't believe it was possible," Mom continues, "But I went out and bought her a test, just to be sure. It was positive."

"Why didn't she tell me?" I whisper. "Did she not want me to know?"

"Bella tried to tell you, Edward! She went to see you two weeks later and you wouldn't let her talk. You interrupted her and then told her not to come see you again!"

I hang my head, remembering that horrible day. "I remember," I whisper. "I remember Bella saying she had to tell me something, but I… I just thought… I had no idea."

Is it all my fault that I didn't know? _Fuck._ I want to kick my own ass for not letting Bella go first.

"I tried to convince Bella to come along with me on another visit so that she could tell you, but… I think she was afraid that you'd reject her," Mom explains.

"I wouldn't have rejected her!" I bury my face in my hands, feeling horribly guilty for the way I had treated Bella. I was supposed to be sending her away for her own good.

"Why didn't _you_ tell me, Mom?" I ask, my voice cracking. "I'm your son."

Mom sighs. "Bella didn't want me to tell you. She didn't want you to ask her to come back just because of the baby. She wanted you to do it on your own."

"But—"

"I was in a tough spot," Mom says softly. "I wanted to tell you, but Bella had asked me not to. I couldn't betray her confidence and go behind her back to tell you. I did everything I could to convince either one of you to budge, but you were both so stubborn." Mom shakes her head, a rueful smile on her face.

Before I can reply, the oven timer beeping alerts us that breakfast is ready. Well, brunch I suppose — it's just past noon according to the clock on the microwave.

"Are you not working today?" I ask as Mom sets a plate of decadent goodness in front of me. She dishes out only a small portion for herself.

"No, I took the day off to spend it with you. Though I guess I'm going to have to give you up for a few hours when Mr. Marks arrives," she smiles.

I inhale half of the contents on my plate before I decide to get back to our conversation. "I'm still pissed, you know. That neither of you thought the fact that Bella is pregnant is something I should know."

"Of course you should've known, Edward. I believe it would've given you something to look forward to, though I know Bella was also afraid that it would only upset you more that you were locked up and unable to be a part of her pregnancy. She _was_ planning to tell you when you threw her out."

"I did that for her own good…" I mumble between bites.

"And I told you that it _wasn't_ what was best for her. I quite nearly slipped and told you the truth once." I sigh, wishing she had.

"Would you like seconds?" Mom asks, glancing at my now empty plate.

"Please," I smile.

Just as I finish my second helping, the doorbell rings and Mom gets up to answer it. Moments later, she returns along with my lawyer.

"Edward," he nods.

"Would you like something to eat, Mr. Marks?" my Mom asks, ever the hostess.

"No, thank you. I've already eaten. It smells delicious though. Edward, we need to get down to the police station so they can interview you for the case against Hunter."

"All right," I reply, swallowing the rest of my orange juice.

"Oh, I almost forgot," Mom exclaims. She darts out of the kitchen, returning with my cell phone in hand. "Call me and let me know when you think you might get home tonight. I'll make you meatloaf for dinner, how does that sound?"

"That sounds fucking awesome." I've never been able to copy Mom's meatloaf recipe. Well, I never tried that often since I rarely had enough money to buy ground beef.

"Language, Edward," Mom sighs, rolling her eyes. My lawyer chuckles and I glare at him. "How about if I call Bella now? Maybe she can join us for dinner."

"Isn't she at work?"

"Well, I suppose, but…"

"I told you, Mom. It's not your responsibility. I'll deal with Bella later, ok? It hasn't even been 24 hours."

"Soon."

"Soon," I nod.

I follow my lawyer outside, sliding into the passenger seat of his BMW. In about 15 minutes, he's parking in front of the Bellevue police station. I climb out of the car and follow behind him, then wait as he talks to the man at the front desk, until he motions me to follow them both.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Cullen," a young cop greets me, holding his hand out. I tentatively grasp his hand, shaking it. "I'm Officer Riley Biers. I'm the one who found the watch in Mr. Hunter's possessions."

"Thank you for everything you did for me," I tell him sincerely, sitting down at the table. I can feel my blood pressure start to rise when Detective Caius, the one who always thought I was guilty, steps into the room. Dick.

"Cullen," he nods, sitting down next to the other cop — without offering to shake my hand, I note.

"The Weber murder case is still Detective Caius's," Officer Biers explains, "Though Hunter is mine, at least for the robbery that occurred earlier this month.

"Now, Hunter confessed to Mrs. Weber's murder, and I do believe he's guilty, but depending on his lawyer, he could plead Not Guilty, try to say the confession was coerced, who knows what else. If he does plead Not Guilty, his lawyer's strategy would almost certainly be to put doubt in the jury's mind, to make them believe that you could be guilty after all." I inhale sharply.

"The first thing we need to establish is what happened to your gun, then we'll deal with the Angela Weber situation. I spoke to your parents and… girlfriend earlier this month. They explained that you threw the gun in a dumpster after committing a liquor store robbery about five years ago."

"That's right," I agree, bristling a little at his referring to Bella as my girlfriend.

"I know it was several years ago, but I need you to tell me everything about the day of the liquor store robbery. Here's a map of the area," he says, pushing a piece of paper across the table at me. "I've marked the location of the store, now I need you to remember which way you ran, where you left the gun, and where you were arrested."

An hour later, the police finally seem to have enough on the robbery. I'm already ready for a fucking nap. I thank Officer Biers when he hands me a bottle of water.

"Now we'll move on to Angela Weber and your reason for being in the Weber house. Start with where and when you met her," Officer Biers directs.

"I met her at Club Twilight, the night before the Super Bowl."

"As verified by the cell phone records," Mr. Marks points out.

"Were you both alone?"

"No, she was with a friend — Jessica Stanley. And I was with a friend also, Garrett Lee."

"Did you go to the Weber home that night?" the officer asks.

"No," I reply, shaking my head. "We hooked up out back behind the club and exchanged phone numbers."

"Were you aware that Ms. Weber was underage?" Detective Caius asks condescendingly.

"No, I wasn't. She was in a fucking bar! And she told me she was 21."

"All right, tell us about your visits to the Weber home," Officer Biers says. "Leave no detail out. I need to know what rooms you were in and what items you may have touched."

With a sigh, I explain about Angela's phone call and how she gave me directions to her parents' house. Four hours later, the cops are finally done with me.

"That should be all for now, Mr. Cullen," Officer Biers says, standing up from the table. "And I apologize that you'll have to go through much of this again. It does appear that Ms. Weber will be charged with perjury, but in a different jurisdiction, so the cops there will have to handle it."

Shaking the officer's hand, I stand up and stretch, then follow my lawyer out of the interrogation room. After a stop in the men's room, I call Mom as we walk out to the parking lot to let her know we're on our way.

During the drive back to Mercer Island, Mom calls me back to ask me to invite my lawyer to have dinner with us. I roll my eyes but I extend the invitation and he agrees.

"Alec," my father greets my lawyer with a handshake when we arrive home. The two of them are golf buddies or some shit like that. "Would you like a drink?"

My ears perk up. "You have beer in the house?"

My father rolls his eyes. "Your mother picked some up at the store this afternoon."

_Way to go, Mom,_ I think, eagerly making my way to the kitchen. I grab a beer from the fridge, twist the top off and drink half of it down in one swallow. "Damn, that's good." I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand while Mom stands staring at me, shaking her head a little. "Thanks. Love you, Mom," I tell her, hugging her.

My father and lawyer stand in the doorway, also shaking their heads. "Oh, would you like one, too?"

"Please," Mr. Marks nods, smiling at me. I grab myself a second beer while I'm at it.

When dinner is ready, we sit down to eat and Mom is thoughtful enough to hand me the plate of meatloaf first. I pile my plate high with meatloaf, mashed potatoes and steamed broccoli, then dig in.

"Slow down, Edward," Mom admonishes. "No one is going to take it away from you."

"You have no idea how good this tastes, Mom," I reply.

Just when I think I can't eat another bite, Mom brings out my favorite apple pie from a nearby bakery. God, I love my mom.

We say goodbye to my lawyer after dinner and I settle in on the couch with another beer. Wanting to just do something fucking _normal_ for a change, I pick up the remote control, looking for a college bowl game or something. Finally finding one — albeit with a ridiculous name — I settle in on the recliner.

"Edward," Mom asks… at least she's smart enough to wait for a fucking commercial. "Have you thought any more about contacting Bella? I'm sure she's home from work. I could give you her address so you can drive over to see her."

"I'm still pissed at her, Mom… I don't — I don't want to say anything I might regret." I haven't had time to think about Bella since I left the house with my lawyer.

"I told you, Edward — she tried to tell you and you wouldn't let her talk."

"I know," I sigh. "It's just… how could she not keep trying?"

"You know how Bella is, Edward. I got to know her pretty well, and she's not the most confident young woman. After you sent her away, I couldn't convince her that you didn't really mean it, and that you'd be happy about the baby. You are… happy about it, aren't you?"

"I… yeah, I mean… it hasn't really sunk in yet," I admit. "But I'm not unhappy to be having a baby with Bella." I've been so stuck on Bella being pregnant that I've hardly thought about the fact that the end result is a tiny, new human being.

"Wait — how did you get to know Bella so well?" I ask curiously.

"Well, she lived with us for about six weeks."

"She what?!" Why didn't I know about this?

"Calm down, Edward. When we confirmed that Bella was pregnant, she needed to come back to Seattle so she could see a doctor. She'd looked a little bit into moving back, but she certainly wasn't ready for the move. She stayed with Carlisle and me until she closed on her house."

"Why did she need to see a doctor?" I ask anxiously. "Is something wrong with the baby?"

"No, no, nothing like that. She needed to get prenatal care and also set her mind at ease that her previous miscarriage wouldn't affect future pregnancies." Mom holds her hand up to stop my question. "The doctor assured her that it won't."

I close my eyes, letting Mom's reassurance that Bella's baby — my baby — is fine wash over me. I remember the way Bella reacted when she saw the baby clothes from her trunk. She couldn't take it if she lost another child. No way.

"Is Bella ok with the pregnancy? She's not… freaking out?" I ask tentatively.

"She's fine, I promise. I know she's perhaps a little more anxious than most moms-to-be, but she's been seeing a therapist since mid-November, and I'm sure that's helping her to deal with things.

"Go see her, Edward. Talk to her."

I realize that Mom really has no idea what Bella said to me in the courtroom. Bella hasn't told her that she doesn't want my help with the baby.

"Mom—" The doorbell ringing interrupts me, and my dad, who'd been focused on the football game, gets up to answer it.

"Edward," he calls from the foyer. "Come here, please."

Sighing, I set down my beer and stand up, heading to the foyer. Standing outside is a young woman with obviously dyed blonde hair whose face lights up when she sees me.

"Hi," she says with a big, unnaturally white smile. "You must be Edward!"

"Yeah, and who the fuck are you?" I don't miss the glare Dad gives me.

"Um…" Who the fuck is this chick if I could rattle her that easily? "My name is Heidi Fisher. I'm a reporter for the _Seattle Times_," she says, showing me her press badge.

"A reporter?" I sneer, remembering the things the newspaper would say about me. I don't recall this chick's name from the articles though.

"Um, yes, Mr. Cullen. I'd like to do a feature story on you and your case for the Sunday paper."

"You expect me to talk to you after the things that your paper wrote about me?" Is she fucking serious?

"Well, wouldn't you like to set the record straight? And just so you know, I'm a Features reporter; I'm not on the crime beat — I've never written anything about you."

I sigh. I know the media has always been interested in my case. Maybe if I give one interview, the rest will leave me alone? But I'm not really up for more fucking talking tonight. "Can we do this tomorrow?"

"I'm afraid not," she replies. "I've got a deadline to make the Sunday edition, so I really need to talk to you tonight."

"All right," I sigh. "Come in."

With another bright smile, Ms. Fisher crosses the threshold. "May I take your coat?" Mom asks, startling me. I hadn't even realized she was standing there.

"Thank you," Ms. Fisher smiles, and I notice she's wearing a tight, red v-neck sweater and a short black skirt that leaves little to the imagination. Is that your typical reporter attire?

"Would you two like to talk in my office?" Dad suggests.

I nod, and he leads Ms. Fisher through the house to his office. I detour to pick up my beer, which dammit, is almost empty.

"If it's ok, Mr. Cullen, I'd like to talk to you and your wife later, too, to get your side of things." Dad nods, closing his door on the way out.

"Look, Ms. Fisher—"

"Please, call me Heidi," she smiles, pulling out a small tape recorder. "And may I call you Edward?"

"Um, I guess. So, Heidi, I spent five hours at the police station this afternoon, so you'll have to forgive me if I'm not particularly talkative."

"I don't need every detail," she replies. "I just want to know for starters how you felt when you were questioned by the police for a crime you didn't commit."

I spend the next hour or so talking to Heidi, trying to ignore the fact that she's flirting with me. I ain't interested, chick. When she's finally done with me, I lead her into the family room to talk to my parents while I grab another beer.

I really wish I'd gone up to my room or something while Heidi interviews Mom and Dad. Listening to Mom tell her what it's like visiting her son in prison… I have to get up for three more beers.

"Thank you so much, all of you," Heidi says once the interview is over. "Edward, here is my card. Give me a call if you have anything more to add, ok?" Her wink lets me know that business isn't the only reason she wants me to call. As Mom sees her out, I flip over the card to see her cell phone number on the back. Shaking my head, I toss it in the trash while I get another beer.

"Haven't you had enough, Edward?" Dad says disapprovingly as I step back into the family room.

"I've got three dry months to make up for!" I protest. Mom shakes her head, watching me carefully as I watch the late news with them.

When I go for another beer, Mom follows me into the kitchen. "Edward," she says, taking it out of my hand. "I know you've had quite a shock—"

"You think?"

Frowning, she continues, "But getting drunk is not helping."

"I'm not drunk," I protest. "I'm just… buzzed. Relaxed."

Mom opens the fridge, putting the beer back on the shelf. "Go up to bed, Edward," she says, brushing my hair back off my forehead in a gesture that reminds me of Bella. "Get some sleep; you look dead on your feet. You've got some things to deal with tomorrow, ok?"

I really am fucking exhausted. I nod, kissing Mom's cheek as I walk up the stairs.

* * *

**A/N: **So, how are we feeling about Edward? Lots of readers wanted to bitch slap him after the last chapter!


	20. December 29-30

**Author's Note: **Thanks again to moosals for pre-reading. Stephenie Meyer owns all characters.

Still covering the missing block of time in Bella's Chapter 24. Seems you all want to bitch slap Edward even more after the prior chapter!

I forgot to mention that I took a bit of creative license with Edward getting compensation for his wrongful conviction. The law in the state of Washington didn't actually pass until May 2013.

* * *

_Saturday, December 29, 2012_

After another restless night, I finally crawl out of bed on Saturday with the sun shining high in the sky. After a repeat of yesterday morning, I head downstairs to find Mom in the kitchen again.

"How's your head?" she asks, turning around from the stove to look at me.

"Fine." Mom raises an eyebrow. Fuck, Mom, I can hold my liquor.

"Have a seat, I'm almost done with some pancakes."

"With chocolate chips?" I ask eagerly.

"Yes, with chocolate chips," Mom replies, shaking her head. "You really are still just a large child yourself, aren't you. Poor Bella is going to have two children to raise."

"Mom!"

"Oh hush, you know it's true," Mom says as she slides a full plate in front of me. She heads back to the stove then to start on another batch.

As I eat, my mind can't help going back to the morning I made pancakes for Bella. Feeding her in bed, licking the syrup off of her naked body… _Down, boy._ The last thing I need is to get a hard-on in front of my mom.

Jesus Christ, it's been over three months since I've had sex! I haven't gone that long without getting laid since the last time I was in prison. I really need to figure this shit out with Bella sooner or later because this can't go on much longer before my balls shrivel up and fall off. I don't want anyone but Bella, but if she doesn't want me, I'll have to go elsewhere for sex.

Just the thought makes me queasy.

"Are you all right, Edward? You haven't eaten very much."

"Sorry, just thinking too much," I reply, shoveling in another bite.

Just as I finish up the four pancakes on my plate, Mom returns with another one for me and three for herself. "I can make more if you're still hungry," she says with a smile.

"I'm good," I tell her, belching loudly as I stand up. I chuckle at Mom's reaction.

In the family room, I sit heavily in my favorite recliner, reaching for the remote control. More college bowl games, of course.

"Is Dad at the hospital?" I ask Mom when she comes to join me.

"Yes," she nods. "So it's a perfect time for you and me to talk. What is it, Edward?" she asks, sitting down on the end of the couch nearest to me. "Why won't you go see Bella? Why are you stalling?"

I close my eyes, running my hands through my hair roughly. "She doesn't want me, Mom," I whisper.

"What on earth are you talking about?"

"You didn't hear what Bella said to me…"

"When?" Mom asks.

"In the courtroom. She said that she could do this by herself, that she wasn't asking me for anything. She doesn't want me!" I cry.

"Edward, that's ridiculous! I know for a fact that Bella wants you! Why on earth do you think she wanted to be there in the courtroom? She was hoping to talk to you, to tell you about the baby, as soon as you were free."

"But she said—"

"I don't _care_ what she said," Mom interrupts. "You must've misunderstood."

"How do you misunderstand, 'I can do this by myself'? Those were her exact words, Mom."

Mom stands up from the couch, moving to sit on the arm of the chair next to me, and wraps her arms around me.

"Sweetheart, I promise you that Bella was _not_ saying that she doesn't want you to be a father to your child. I know that's what she wants, that's all she's talked about. But I also know that she doesn't want to force you into something you're not ready for. She was so afraid that you wouldn't be happy about her pregnancy. She doesn't want you to be unhappy, even if it makes _her_ unhappy to not have you."

I look up at Mom, tears in my eyes. "Bella really wants me?" I whisper. Please let it be true.

"Yes, she does. She cares about you so much, Edward," Mom says, brushing my hair back.

"Bella used to do that," I smile.

"Do what?"

"My hair. She always treated me with such tenderness, even when I didn't deserve it."

Mom stands up suddenly, heading down the hallway toward Dad's office. She returns with a small pad of paper, sitting back on the couch where she scribbles something before tearing off a sheet and handing it to me.

"This is Bella's phone number and address. She lives near the Crossroads Shopping Center. Go talk to her, Edward."

I stare down at the piece of paper. I can still hardly believe that I misunderstood her — that she really does want me. But now I've been MIA for almost two days. What if she thinks I don't want _her_?

"I fucked up, Mom," I whisper. "What if Bella is pissed that I haven't contacted her in so long?"

"Well, I wouldn't blame her! But I'm sure you can charm her into forgiving you," Mom chuckles.

I place my elbows on my knees, burying my head in my hands. Fuck it, I'm not scared of anything, so why am I so chicken shit at the thought of going to see Bella?

I'm still trying to psych myself up for it when the doorbell rings. Mom gets up to answer it, returning a few moments later with my lawyer.

"You again?"

He chuckles. "Sorry, I told you we weren't done. You need to go give a statement in the perjury case against Ms. Weber."

"You're fucking kidding me, right?" I groan.

"I'm sorry, Edward, but no," he replies.

"I don't really give a fuck if she's arrested or not. I just want this to be fucking over with! Besides… if it wasn't for Angela's lies, I wouldn't have met Bella."

"Edward, that girl deserves to pay for sending you to prison for a crime you didn't commit," Mom says forcefully. "Even the judge noted that you probably wouldn't have even gone to trial if she'd told the truth in the first place."

"It isn't up to you whether or not the State pursues charges against Ms. Weber, Edward," my lawyer points out. "I'll try to get you home by dinner time."

"Would you like to cook tonight, Edward?" Mom asks. "Or will you go see Bella once you're done giving your statement?"

Just the thought of going to see her causes butterflies in my stomach. I know she's gonna be — rightfully — pissed at me. It won't hurt to delay my visit until after dinner.

"I'll cook," I tell Mom, stuffing the sheet of paper in the back pocket of my jeans. "Something Italian."

"All right," she nods. I kiss her on the cheek then follow my lawyer out the front door.

"This is the last time, right?" I ask as we drive to the police station.

"Hopefully, yes."

"I don't understand why they need my statement for this," I comment. "Shouldn't the cell phone records prove that Angela committed perjury?"

"They're pretty damning evidence," he agrees. "If I was defending Ms. Weber, I'd approach her defense from the standpoint that she didn't realize the man being accused of her mother's murder was her bar hook-up."

"Pfftt… she's the one who was barely recognizable in court. Unless she's got a fucking short memory, she should've known I was the same guy."

"And I'm sure she did, but like I said, that's probably the best way for a defense lawyer to approach it. The police just want to get enough of a statement from you to counteract that type of argument," he says.

Arriving at the police station, we're led back to an interrogation room to meet with a cop who identifies himself as Officer Cheney.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Cullen," he says, shaking my hand. "I'm sorry to have to ask you to come down here, but the State doesn't want to take any chances on losing this case. Perjury is a tough crime to prove — outright lying versus faulty memory."

"I understand." Just make it quick.

"Good, so let's get started," he says, pushing a button on the tape recorder. "Can you tell me when and where you first met Ms. Weber?"

Sighing at the thought of repeating my entire statement from yesterday, I reply, "I met her at Club Twilight the night before the Super Bowl."

"Did you exchange names?"

"First names," I answer. "I definitely told her my name was Edward."

"But not your last name?"

"No." I frown; fuck, is this how she's going to get out of the perjury charges?

"Did you ever exchange last names?" he asks.

"I don't think so. I never knew Angela's last name, which is why I didn't initially realize that the murder victim was related to her. The last name Weber meant nothing to me."

"And you exchanged phone numbers the night you met, correct?"

"Yeah… she gave me her number and when I called her, she saved my name and number in her phone. She called me twice after that, asking me to come over."

"Was it dark in the club the night you met her?" he asks.

"It's a club… of course it was pretty dark, but not so dark you couldn't see _anything_. I remember being able to see the pink and green streaks in Angela's hair. And it definitely wasn't dark in her house. She should've been able to recognize me."

And so it continues for at least two and a half hours. I'm grateful when we're finally finished.

"Thanks again for coming down here today, Edward," Officer Cheney says. "We shouldn't need to contact you again, but I've got your lawyer's number just in case."

Fucking finally… I can put this nightmare behind me.

"Do you have time to stop by my office, Edward?" Mr. Marks asks as we leave the police station.

Sighing, I nod my assent and he calls another lawyer from his firm to join us. Twenty minutes later we arrive at his office.

"Edward, I'd like you to meet Eric Yorkie," my lawyer says. "Eric, thanks so much for coming into the office on a Saturday."

"No problem," he replies. With his black, slicked-back hair, he totally looks like a stereotypical sleazy lawyer.

"Edward, I mentioned the possibility of you being able to sue the State for additional compensation. Now I'm a criminal defense lawyer, so this isn't my specialty at all, but Mr. Yorkie has handled one of these cases previously."

"Do I _need_ to sue since I'm already going to get some compensation?" I ask.

"Well, no, but if you're really interested in paying your parents back for all of the legal assistance they've paid for over the years, this is one way to do it. I've been with you for most of your police interviews, and I truly believe that the Bellevue police didn't give you a fair shot."

"That dick Detective Caius…"

"Exactly — Detective Caius branded you guilty right from the start," he agrees. "I'm not saying the police failed to look into any other leads they may have had, but I don't believe they _tried_ that hard to look for other leads. They pretty much had you convicted in their minds from the day they identified your fingerprints at the crime scene. Not to mention, much of their case rested on the testimony of a witness who perjured herself."

Mr. Yorkie goes on to explain how he thinks we could approach this, how much he thinks that I could get. My head spins when I hear the amount.

"But I don't want my parents to have to keep paying out more money on the off chance that I could win even more."

"My fee would be a cut of the proceeds," Mr. Yorkie explains. "If you lose, I get nothing."

Well, that's interesting. "Can I think about it?"

"Yes, of course you can, Edward," Mr. Marks speaks up.

I shake hands with both men and as we step into the outer office, we're met by a reporter and cameraman from one of the local TV stations, asking me to do an interview.

"Mr. Cullen, we know the _Times_ is going to be running a feature story on you in tomorrow's edition. We'd love to scoop them," the young woman grins mischievously.

"How long will it take?" I sigh.

"Not long, I promise. We won't bother you again."

I agree to do the interview; being on TV — not in handcuffs — _is_ pretty fucking cool.

Fifteen minutes later, we're on the way back to my parents' house.

"I'll call you if the police need you again; otherwise, good luck with the rest of your life, Edward," my lawyer says as we drive along the freeway. "I'm not trying to push you on the lawsuit, but I think you've got a good case. Just want you to know it's an option."

"Thanks. I'll let you know. I've got… other things to deal with."

I chuckle to myself at my total understatement.

"Hey, Mom," I call as I walk in the door. I head straight to the kitchen for a beer then find Mom in the family room. I don't miss her disapproving look.

"You just missed your brother on the phone," she says. "He was going for dinner but said you can call him back later — just be mindful of the time difference."

"Are they home or away tomorrow?" I ask.

"Away, but only in Minnesota; there should be a lot of Packers fans at the game. It starts at 1:30 out here."

"Cool," I smile. "What did you pick up for dinner?"

"I thought maybe veal parmigiana? If you're up for something like that, I mean. Really, you can just make spaghetti."

"Veal is fine," I reply, standing up. "I'll go start on it now."

I set my beer down then pull the various ingredients from the pantry and fridge, setting them on the island. And then I have to stop, my hands gripping the edge of the granite countertop. Just doing something so simple… so basic as cooking a meal, was something that I wasn't sure I'd ever do again. But I can; I am. I'm free.

"Edward…?"

I look up, seeing Mom's concerned face staring at me from across the island. A stray tear leaks from my left eye.

"What is it, Edward?"

"I'm free," I whisper.

Mom smiles at me, walking around the island and wrapping her arms around me. "Yes, you're free, sweetheart." I unclench my fingers from the countertop and hug her back.

Pulling back, Mom leads me over to the kitchen table, sitting me down on a chair. I look up at her questioningly.

"I know you're a bit overwhelmed with everything right now, Edward, but it's going to be okay — you'll see."

"I'm fine," I whisper.

Mom runs her hand through my hair, leaving it on my shoulder. "You don't have to be strong, sweetheart." She squeezes my shoulder. "How about if I… if I call Bella and see if she wants to come over for dinner. Would that be ok?"

"Mooooom," I whine. "We have so much to talk about. I don't need an audience."

"Then why don't you go see her after dinner?" She squeezes my shoulder again, rubbing my upper arm before moving away.

Sighing, I stand up, finish my beer and get started on dinner. First I decide to make my own tomato sauce. While that is cooking, I make a stuffing with sun-dried tomatoes and the various cheeses I can find, then pound the veal flat and stuff it with the cheesy mixture.

"Is Dad gonna be home?" I ask Mom, who has been sitting at one of the bar stools watching me cook.

"Yes, he should be," she answers. I make up a third veal cutlet for him then pop them in the oven and grab another beer from the fridge.

"Edward," my mom sighs. "You are not getting drunk again so I won't let you have the car keys to drive to Bella's, are you?"

"It's just a couple beers, Mom, geez," I complain. "I like beer."

While dinner is in the oven, I make up a salad, setting it in the fridge when I'm finished. Then I start a pot of water boiling for some spaghetti to serve with the veal.

"You know, Bella thinks you should go to culinary school," Mom says suddenly.

"Yeah, she, um, told me that. She always liked my cooking," I add with a small smile.

I jump a little when I hear the garage door open — Dad's home.

"Well, something smells good," he remarks when he steps into the kitchen.

"Edward made stuffed veal cutlets," Mom says proudly. "Should be ready in a few minutes."

When the veal is done, I take the pan out of the oven and make up three plates, carrying them to the table. I won't let Mom help, despite her protests.

"This is delicious, Edward," Dad remarks as we eat. "Did you work in the kitchen at Stafford Creek?"

"No," I reply, swallowing my bite of veal. "Stafford Creek didn't have a work program in food service. Not that they would've let me actually do more than stick shit in the microwave," I snort. "Couldn't let a dangerous criminal use a knife," I add bitterly.

After dinner, I offer to do the dishes, clean up my own shit. I drain my fourth, or maybe fifth, bottle of beer as I load the dishwasher. Once I get it started, I join my parents in the family room.

"Maybe you could go see Bella now, Edward," Mom suggests. At my grimace, she continues, "Ok then, did you want to call Emmett before it gets too late?"

"Uh, sure," I reply, and she hands me her cell phone.

It's not that I don't get along with Emmett, or don't like him. I mean, he's pretty much impossible not to like. We've never exactly been close though, like brothers should be. He was such a fucking golden boy in high school, captain of the football team, always dating cheerleaders. Well, I fucked plenty of cheerleaders myself.

But while Emmett was everything two upper-middle-class parents could ask for, I… wasn't. It's not that I _wanted_ to be a troublemaker, I just wanted to have a good time and trouble always seemed to find me.

But I can't be like that anymore if I'm going to be a… father. _Fuck._

"Edward…?"

I snap out of my daze, realizing I've been staring at the phone for the last ten minutes. I find Emmett's name in the list of Contacts and press the Call button.

"Hey, Emmett," I greet him when he answers the phone.

"Edward, man! Good to hear from you, bro!"

I spend about a half hour talking to my brother before hanging up. It's probably the longest conversation I've had with him in years, even if we do spend half of it talking about tomorrow's game.

I get up to grab another beer then plop myself down in the recliner again, staring at the phone.

I should call Bella.

I'm fucking shit scared to call Bella.

I pull the sheet of paper with her address and phone number out of my back pocket, staring at it. I start punching in the numbers, but before I can hit the last digit, I end the call, squeezing my eyes closed.

I'm not ready yet. I haven't had enough beer to deal with this if it goes badly.

Shaking my head, I set Mom's phone down and focus on the TV, where one of the Harry Potter movies is just starting, _Goblet of Fire_ or some shit like that.

"That boy looks like you, Edward," Mom squeals suddenly.

I glance up at the TV. "No, he doesn't."

"Well, if you were clean-cut and innocent," she grins.

"Ha. Ha." I need another fucking beer.

It's near the end of the movie when an ad comes on for some kind of diapers. Watching the two babies crawling around, it hits me, really fucking hits me.

I'm going to be a _dad_. Bella is going to have a baby, a real live baby, in a few months.

"When is Bella due, Mom?" I ask quietly.

"What? Oh, June sometime."

"June…" I whisper.

"We, um… we heard the heartbeat at her last appointment."

"We?" I ask, confused.

Mom nods. "I've accompanied Bella to both of her doctor's appointments."

"You heard the heartbeat?" I whisper.

"Yes, it was truly an amazing thing. I know how much Bella wished you had been there with us, though."

I bury my face in my hands, feeling my breathing speed up. Fuck, it's like I'm having one of Bella's fucking panic attacks.

A baby. A real, live baby… with a heartbeat. I don't know what the fuck to do with a baby! I've never even _touched_ a baby. I don't know how the fuck to be a father! My own father forgot I was there half the time. _Fuck._

Maybe this kid is better off without me.

"I'm going to bed," I say abruptly, standing up from the chair. I don't care if it's only 10 o'clock.

Up in my room, I strip down to my boxers then climb under the covers, shivering. I still think I smell Bella in my room, and I breathe in deeply, letting her scent calm me.

* * *

When I wake up, it's still dark outside. I look at the clock on the nightstand and it reads 5:03. I roll onto my back, sighing.

I know I need to deal with Bella. I know the longer I wait, the worse it's going to be. Rationally, I know this.

I love Bella. I want to be with Bella… and our baby.

But part of being a… _father_, is doing what is best for your child. And maybe that's not me. Even Mom said yesterday that I'm still a child myself. How could _I_ be a good father?

I toss and turn for the next three hours, but I just can't seem to stay asleep for more than a few minutes at a time. I finally crawl out of bed just after 8am to shower and get dressed.

Downstairs, all is quiet. I dig around in the fridge, finding the leftover casserole from Friday morning, and heat up a piece.

"You're up early," Mom says, startling me as I sit at the table eating my breakfast.

"Couldn't sleep," I shrug.

"Did you want to talk about it?" I shrug again, gulping down the last of my orange juice. I busy myself with unloading the dishwasher from last night and putting the dishes away.

"You don't have to do that, Edward," Mom says quietly.

"It's fine."

When I finish, I rinse off my dishes and put them in the dishwasher. "Did you want something for breakfast, Mom?"

"I can get it, dear."

I sit at the table with Mom while she eats a small piece of the casserole then take care of her dishes for her.

"Where's Dad?" I ask curiously.

"He went for a short shift at the hospital. He'll be home before Emmett's game."

Nodding, I head into the family room, searching for the remote control. I sit in my favorite recliner and flip on the TV, though I know it's probably too early yet for one of the pregame shows; the first games start at 10am Pacific time.

"Come here, Edward," Mom orders, beckoning me to where she sits on one end of the couch. I move to sit beside her and she pulls me down until my head is in her lap. I stretch out on the couch, closing my eyes as Mom runs her fingers through my hair, the way she would when I was first adopted. Back when I was "clean-cut and innocent."

"Tell me, Edward," she says quietly. "Tell me what's bothering you."

"What if the baby is better off without me?" I whisper.

"What on earth are you talking about?"

"You said yourself that I'm still a kid. I'm immature. I'm reckless and impulsive. I do stupid shit. I got into this mess because I let my dick rule my life."

"I'm not going to lie and say that none of that is true," Mom says quietly. "Having a baby will force you to grow up, to think of someone other than yourself; it's true. But that doesn't mean you can't do it."

"But what do I know about being a dad? I've never held a baby. I've never changed a diaper!"

"You'll learn, the same way that all new parents have to learn. You'll make mistakes, as all parents do. But I know that you'll do your best. You've never been _dumb_, Edward."

"But I barely even graduated from high school! I'm not talented at anything besides cooking and… sex."

Mom chuckles. "I'm sure that's not at all true. You _are_ a smart boy, even if you didn't apply yourself in school. I have faith in you, Edward. You have the one thing that every child needs: love. You are so full of love to give. I know you'll be fine."

I lie there quietly, letting Mom stroke my hair while I think about everything she said. I want to believe that she's right, but Mom has always been my champion. She has always believed in me, even when I truly didn't deserve it. How do I know that I deserve it now?

When the game starts, I sit up, moving back to the recliner.

"Edward?" Mom asks as the game nears halftime. "What would you like for lunch? Should I just order pizza or something?"

"Sure, yeah," I reply, distracted.

The pizza arrives shortly after halftime starts, so I appease Mom and go eat in the kitchen with her instead of in the living room. I can tell Mom is pissed when I grab a beer to go with my pizza. I'm sure she's totally regretting buying the beer for me.

Dad arrives home around one, joining us in the family room as soon as he's changed clothes. The Seahawks are of course on the local Fox station, so we have to use the NFL package to watch the Packers.

It's a good game, and Emmett gets a touchdown, but the Vikings end up winning 37-34. Still, Emmett's team is in the playoffs. Mom and Dad call him about a half hour after the game ends to congratulate him.

We've got 30 minutes or so until the night game on NBC, so I get up to rummage through the fridge for something to make for dinner.

"What are you making?" Mom asks, stepping into the kitchen.

"Stir-fry chicken over rice."

"You could've gone over to Bella's for dinner."

"Mom…"

"You should've let me call her after the hearing, Edward," Mom says quietly. "I didn't because you told me you would later that night, then you promised you'd call the next day."

"I know I fucked up, all right? She's probably pissed. And I just… I'm scared, Mom. What if my feelings for her are a lot stronger than hers are for me? Why would she want a guy like me? I'm nothing like her husband was; I'm not some fucking lawyer."

"I've never seen someone as full of excuses as you are," Mom chuckles. "I am sure that Bella does care for you deeply, and if you just talk to her, she'll tell you that. After she finishes kicking your ass."

Rolling my eyes, I finish up with dinner while Mom sets the table. I do the dishes again after we've finished eating, then grab another beer and re-join my parents in the living room.

As soon as I sit down, my dad grabs the remote control, turning off the TV. "Edward," he begins sternly, "It's time to have a chat."

_Fuck._

"Whether you like it or not, you are going to be a father in a few months. Frankly, I find it hard to believe Bella is the first woman you've gotten pregnant." I bristle at Dad's observation; I do know about safe sex. "That child will need both of his or her parents," he continues. "It's time for you to man up and take responsibility."

"I know, Dad!"

"Then what are you still doing here getting drunk again?"

"I'll go see her. I will. I just… I'm scared."

"How do you think Bella must feel? By now she probably thinks she's going to be going through this all by herself. She probably thinks you don't want her or your baby."

"I do. I do want her," I cry. "Bella is all I've thought about for the last three months. My cellmate said I used to call out for her in my sleep.

"And I want the baby. The entire idea scares me to death, but I want it."

"Then go to her, Edward," Mom pipes up.

I squeeze my eyes closed, tugging at my hair. "I just want to do the right thing," I whisper. "I want them both, but… I'm still afraid that they're better off without me."

"Edward—"

"I know, Mom. I know what you said. But I'm a fuck-up. What if I end up hurting them?"

"Then it's time for you to fucking grow up, Edward!" my father yells. I gasp — he rarely if ever curses. I don't think I've heard that word out of his mouth since the armed robbery. "You can be the man that Bella and your baby need if you just grow up."

"Edward," Mom says gently, moving to sit on the arm of the recliner next to me. "I have faith in you, sweetheart. I _know_ that you can be the man that Bella and your baby need. You can do anything if you put your mind to it." I close my eyes and she rubs her hand up and down my back.

"Why don't you take your phone, go upstairs and call Bella," Mom suggests. "Just call her if you're not ready for a visit. Let her tell you just how much she wants you in her life and in your unborn child's life."

Swallowing thickly, I nod. I walk into the kitchen for another beer, then head upstairs.

I sit on my bed, crossing my legs as I stare at my phone in my hand. I start punching in the numbers, then stop, staring at the phone again.

No, this is something I need to do in person. But I'm not ready yet. _Fucking get it together, Cullen_, I chastise myself.

I take a long swig of my beer, then set the bottle on the nightstand and flop back on my bed. I wonder if Bella slept in my room when she stayed here; is that why the room smells of her?

Breathing in her scent, I think back to the last night I spent in bed with Bella, the way I held her naked body in my arms all night long. I was at peace that night, and I would've done anything for her. In the morning I woke her up with my fingers and tongue, bringing her pleasure before I got my own.

Was that the time we made a baby?

I guess rationally I know it was probably that time when I forgot the condom, even if I did pull out before I came. Fuck, that time was amazing. I'd never had sex bare before. It was just… better than I ever could have imagined.

I sit straight up when I realize… Bella is already pregnant! I can't get her _more_ pregnant, which means we don't need no stinkin' condoms anymore! I can feel that every… single… fucking… time.

And… now I'm hard. Fuck.

I quickly get up to make sure my door is locked before I start unbuttoning my jeans. I pull them down then pull my cock out of my boxers. I lick my hand then stroke from base to tip. As I work my hand over my cock, I picture Bella leaning over me that one time she gave me a blowjob. I close my eyes, seeing her as she tentatively sucked me off.

As I feel myself getting close, I lift my shirt just before I shoot my cum all over my stomach. I lie back again, breathing heavily.

Not as good as sex with Bella.

I sit up before the mess on my stomach dries, cleaning up in the bathroom. It's not all that late; I could go to Bella's now. But I slept like shit last night, and I don't know that I'm ready to face her like this.

Tomorrow. I will do it tomorrow. No more stalling.

* * *

**A/N: **Go Daddy C.!

I Googled what was playing on TV the night of 12/29/2012 and literally the first thing I saw on ABC was _Goblet of Fire_. It was fate, how could I not use it?

Who can come up with the most creative way to punish Edward for his procrastinating? Or does he have a point in there somewhere?


	21. December 31

**Author's Note: **Thanks again to moosals for pre-reading. Stephenie Meyer owns all characters.

All right, we're finally going to get to the last half of Bella's Chapter 24.

Edward isn't getting a lot of sympathy from you all. One reader wants Bella to beat him with a gourmet skillet, while another says, "Perhaps we should put him out on a sidewalk, naked except for a diaper and baby bonnet, with a sign that reads, "I'm going to be a daddy, but I'm too much of a baby to man up and be one." stapled to his chest. Too much?" I'd reply but you have PMs turned off!

* * *

_Monday, December 31, 2012_

With my mind settled, I sleep like, well, like a baby — which is to say I wake up every two hours — finally opening my eyes for good around 9:30. I shower quickly then grab a black t-shirt and a pair of jeans. Downstairs, I find a note from Mom taped to the fridge letting me know that she's going to work today, but I can call her if I need anything.

I heat up the last piece of breakfast casserole then plant myself in front of the TV in the family room. Luckily, I can find another ridiculously named bowl game to watch instead of fucking daytime TV. I try hard not to think about what I'm going to do later today.

I was wrong to not let Mom call Bella if I wasn't ready to go see her, I admit that. Bella has every right to be pissed at me for taking so long to contact her. If she wants to string me up by the balls, well, I wouldn't blame her.

But when I think about what my dad said last night, that she probably thinks I don't want her or the baby… could he be right? I mean, Bella knows how I feel about her, doesn't she? When I told her not to come visit me in prison anymore, I told her that I was doing it _for her_. And wasn't the fact that I wanted her nonstop enough of a clue? Even if I didn't know myself that I was in love with her then, I fucking told her how different she was from other girls. Surely she understands that I just needed time to process everything?

But what if she doesn't? What if I really… hurt her? Hurt the woman I love. Does that just prove that I'm not good enough for her, that I don't deserve her? _Fuck._

When my stomach growls, I get up and dig around in the fridge again, eventually finding some leftover meatloaf that I can heat up for lunch.

After I've eaten, I give Mom a quick call, since I can't find the paper where she wrote down Bella's address for me even though I had it last night. I scribble it on a Post-It Note then stick the paper in my back pocket.

I spend the afternoon watching college football, and as evening creeps closer, I start feeling the butterflies in my stomach again. I don't know what time Bella gets off work; I should've asked Mom when I talked to her earlier.

Just before 6pm, the doorbell rings. My first thought is that Mom just forgot her house key or something, but I open the door to my buddies Garrett and Peter.

"Edward, man!" Garrett yells, slapping me on the back as he grabs me in a one-armed hug. "We saw the story in the newspaper yesterday. What the fuck, man? You've been out of prison since Thursday and haven't called your old friends?"

"I've been busy," I protest.

"Well, come on, you need to go out and celebrate! A group of us are heading out to a sports bar to watch tonight's games before hitting the bars."

"I can't, sorry. There's someplace I need to go tonight."

"So go after dinner! Come on!" Peter yells.

Well, I've waited this long to see Bella — couldn't hurt to wait a couple more hours, right? Let her have a chance to eat dinner first. Grabbing my leather jacket and keys, I follow the guys out to Garrett's beat-up Volkswagen Rabbit.

"So what was it like in prison, dude?" Peter asks, turning around to talk to me where I sit in the backseat.

"Boring as all fuck… food that tastes like ass, you know."

"I can't believe you haven't called, man. We had to find out from the newspaper that you're out?" Peter complains, shaking his head.

"I know, sorry… told you I've been busy, giving statements to the police and shit like that."

Garrett buys me a beer when we reach the sports bar where the rest of the gang is already waiting for us. I enjoy the chicken wings and some other fried appetizers before ordering fish and chips for my meal. Of course, that makes me think of the night I took Bella to Olympia. _Soon, baby._

"I'm going out for a smoke," Garrett says as I'm finishing up my second beer. "You comin', Ed?"

"Oh, no, I—I quit smoking," I reply with a shrug. I was mostly past any physical addiction already by the time I got to Bella's, and I just never started again at Stafford Creek, knowing she wouldn't like it. Garrett raises an eyebrow, but leaves me alone. I start pulling my jacket on to leave, but then Peter orders another round of drinks for the table.

"Listen, guys, really there's somewhere I gotta be," I announce, standing up once I'm through with my third beer.

"You can't leave now, Cullen!" Jared complains. "It's fucking New Year's Eve. The bars are gonna be crawling with pussy tonight. You've been locked up since August, so I know you've gotta be more than up for pussy."

"Really, I—"

"You're coming with us," Garrett insists. "It's not every day a guy gets sprung from the Big House."

Sighing, I nod, letting him drag me out to the car. We reach the next bar and the loud music hits me the moment I walk inside. Jared gets me a beer and I stand along the wall drinking it as I watch the crowd out on the dance floor.

"Hey there, handsome," a female voice purrs. I look down to see the redhead who blew me just before my trial. Beats the fuck out of me what her name is. "Good to see you back." She lifts her hand to rub along my arm, and I try to twist away, but I can't go anywhere with the wall behind me.

"Where have you been?" she asks. "I haven't seen you in months." Seriously? Does this bitch not read the papers?

"Around," I shrug.

"Why don't you buy me a drink and then maybe we can go somewhere private?" she asks coyly.

"Sorry, I'm not interested. Excuse me," I say, pushing past her.

"Cullen!" Peter yells, waving me over to where the guys have grabbed a table. "Garrett's getting tequila shots for everyone."

Fuck, yeah. I quickly down my shot, feeling the burn as the alcohol runs through me. I really did need a night out like this. One last hurrah before I have to become a responsible adult. _Fuck_.

"Cullen, my man!"

"Hey, Aro!" I stand up and we man-hug then shake hands. "Good to see you, man."

"Congratulations on finally getting your conviction overturned," he says with a smile.

"Thanks, man. All it took was a little luck in the end," I reply. "Hey, so, now that I'm out, I'm gonna be needing a job. Your parents got anything open?" Aro's parents own the Italian restaurant where I worked at the time I was convicted.

"Nah, I'm sorry, dude. They had to replace you. Nothing's available right now."

"That's all right," I reply with a shrug. "I figured as much, but I had to ask." I'm sure I'll find something eventually. No rush.

Over the next several hours, over a dozen women come up to proposition me. Some of them know who I am, some don't. Every last one of them makes my skin crawl when they try to touch me.

By 11:30, I'm completely buzzed. My buddies have been buying me drinks all night. Fuck, so have a few women, thinking a drink was the way to get in my pants. Little do they know, it's pointless.

The more drunk I get, the more horny I get. But not one of the women in this bar holds any interest to me. I can't believe these cheap sluts were what I used to go for. Not one of them can hold a candle to my Bella.

At midnight, the entire bar toasts the New Year. I down the rest of my beer, ready to go claim my woman.

"Ed, man, you can't be leaving already," Peter calls. "The night is young, man. Seriously, I need your help. See that brunette over there? I need you to keep her blonde friend occupied so I can work my magic with her."

"Sorry, man. I can't. I've got a girl." Well, I _hope_ I do.

"No shit? You're settling down with one woman? Must be some pussy."

"Shut your fucking mouth, ok? It's not… it's not like that. She's everything. Get Garrett to be your wingman."

"Garrett's busy with some redhead. You don't have to fuck her, Ed. Just talk to her!"

Rolling my eyes, I nod my agreement, following Peter over to where the two scantily dressed chicks stand by the bar. I chat up whatever-the-fuck-her-name-is until Peter convinces the brunette to dance with him, then excuse myself to the men's room.

When I come back out, Aro buys me another beer before he has to take off and go home. I'm standing by the bar drinking it when I feel someone's hand on my junk.

"What the fuck?" I yell at the blonde.

"Don't you remember me, Eddie?" she coos, trailing her long fingernails up my stomach. "I made you see stars a few times."

Fuck… Lauren. I do remember her — she was my almost-alibi for the murder.

"Hi, Lauren," I reluctantly greet her, then grab her hand, pulling it off my chest. "Sorry, I'm not up for a repeat tonight. I'm with someone."

She actually has the audacity to laugh out loud. "I've never known you to actually be in a relationship with someone, Eddie!"

"Yeah, well, people change."

"If you're with someone, then where is she? What are you doing here alone?" she asks.

And that's a very good fucking question. What _am_ I doing here?

"You're right," I tell Lauren. "I should be with her." I slam the rest of my beer, then set the empty bottle down on the bar and grab my jacket.

"Adios, amigos," I call to my friends, ignoring their protests as I head to the entrance of the bar.

Outside, it's not hard to hail a cab — at least a dozen of them are parked along the street waiting to take drunk partiers home. I slip into the backseat, then pull the Post-It with Bella's address out of my back pocket, handing it to the cabbie.

I'm too wasted to be nervous anymore, but my knee is still bouncing up and down. Every cell in my body is on high alert. In just minutes, I'm going to see Bella, touch Bella.

"Here we are," the driver announces. I quickly pull my wallet out, tossing a few bills at him. I climb out of the cab and stare up at the ranch-style home at the end of a cul-de-sac. Bella did really well for herself.

I quickly walk up the front sidewalk onto the porch and knock on the door. Seconds pass with no sound from inside the house, no lights coming on. Taking a deep breath, I knock again, louder.

She's probably in bed asleep. I wait a few seconds then ring the doorbell. I wait another 10 or 15 seconds before impatiently knocking again. _Come on, Bella, it's fucking cold out here!_

I'm startled when the porch light suddenly comes on. She's here!

The front door opens and my Bella is standing there wearing ridiculous pajamas with cats on them, staring at me as if she can't believe what she's seeing.

And she's never been more beautiful.

I step inside the warm house, slamming the door behind me before claiming her lips. Oh fuck, I have missed this. My tongue seeks out hers — a chaste kiss is just not gonna be enough right now. I feel Bella return my kiss and all is right in my world.

Bella wraps her arms around my neck, but I need her closer. I grasp her ass then lift her up off the floor, her legs encircling my waist as she clings to me.

Oh _God_, I need this.

I could fuck her right here in the entryway but that tiny, annoying part of my brain recognizes that she deserves more than that. Reluctantly I pull away from her mouth, my lips never leaving her skin. "Bedroom," I mumble against her neck.

Bella unwinds one arm, pointing to a hallway, and I start moving, carrying Bella close to my body. I spy an open door and step inside what looks to be the master bedroom.

I set Bella down gently on the edge of the bed and immediately reach for the hem of her pajama top, pulling it up and over her head. She scoots into the middle of the bed and lies back as I yank her pants down.

Wasting no time, I strip down to my boxers and climb on top of her, moaning as I claim her mouth once again. Bella runs her fingers through my hair, as I slide a hand down from her face until I'm massaging her left tit — which feels fucking amazing in my hand.

I drag my lips away from hers, closing them gently over one of her nipples. "Oh my God," she groans — the first words she's spoken. I switch sides, sucking and licking until both of her nipples form hard little peaks. Holding one of her tits in each hand, I brush my thumbs lightly over the nipples.

"Fuck, they're bigger!" I exclaim.

"Edward… we really need to talk," Bella says, interrupting my inspection.

"Later," I growl, kissing each nipple one more time before I begin trailing my lips down her torso. My tongue circles her navel and she cries out.

And then I reach the small bump below her waist — the baby. _Our_ baby. I place a lingering kiss on her skin before looking up at her. "Is it ok?" I whisper.

"The baby's fine."

"Is it ok to… have sex?" I whisper. Fuck, what if she's off limits until the baby is born?

"Yes," she nods. "You can't hurt the baby." Thank fuck.

I want to ravage her, but I remind myself yet again that she deserves more. Very slowly, I begin peeling her panties down her legs, tossing them to the floor. I quickly remove my own boxers before I kiss my way up her inner thighs toward the promised land.

"Edward," she moans, "I need you inside me."

Well, all right then, who am I to refuse a lady?

Moving quickly, I crawl back over her body so I can whisper in her ear. "I love it when you beg for my cock." With my left hand, I reach down, stroking gently between her legs. Fuck, she is wet, hot damn.

"Please tell me you're not going to make me wear a condom." _Please, oh please._

Bella giggles. "I think it's a little late for that." _Thank you, lord._

I kiss her again as I reach down, coating my needy cock in her wetness before sliding inside until I'm buried to the hilt. "Oh fuck, I forgot how tight you are," I mumble. I feel like I could come without even moving, she feels so fucking good.

I curl my arms under her shoulders, holding her tightly as I begin to move steadily. Bella wraps her legs around my waist, pulling me in closer while she rubs her soft hands up and down my back.

My mouth can't decide what part of her it wants, as I move between her lips, her neck, her collarbone, the swell of her breasts. As Bella lifts her hips to meet my thrusts, the pleasure almost overwhelms me, and I know I'm not going to be able to hold on much longer.

My movements speed up and my kisses turn into pants as I'm teetering right on the edge. Needing her to get there with me, I reach down, rubbing tight circles around her clit until she's screaming out her orgasm.

"Oh God!"

"It's Edward, baby, not God," I growl as I thrust erratically three more times before I still, spilling inside her with a long groan. I immediately collapse, burying my face in her neck and breathing in her scent. I try not to crush her small body beneath me, but she's still hugging me tightly and I'm so fucking exhausted.

As our breathing slows, Bella begins stroking through my hair again and it feels so fucking good.

"Edward." She pokes me in the shoulder. "I need to go clean up."

"Mmmm…" I mumble, really not wanting to ever fucking move again. I slowly roll to my side, feeling my softened cock slip out of heaven. "Sorry it wasn't my best work," I tell her sleepily. "I'll make it up to you tomorrow."

Bella chuckles as she sits up, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. _No, please don't leave me!_

"Don't go," I protest, holding on to her wrist.

"I'll be right back," she promises.

The moment she's gone, it feels as if part of me is missing. How the fuck did I stay away from her for over four days when I'm not sure I can even last four _minutes_ now? I was a fucking idiot to wait so long.

I breathe a sigh of relief when I feel Bella crawl back into bed. My arm slides around her waist and I pull her back into my chest as soon as she's underneath the covers, cursing the fact that she's put her pajamas back on. But she's in my arms, and I am never, ever letting her go again.

* * *

**A/N: **After a few more distractions along the way, he finally made it to Bella's! And she didn't beat him, _or_ string him up by the balls.

I'm looking for a lawyer or someone familiar with courtrooms to pre-read an upcoming chapter. Let me know if you can help!


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